Simple Pleasures
by Pawprinter
Summary: Clarke is a criminal; she isn't surprised when she is reaped for the Games. It's the only way to silence her. Bellamy spent his life raising Octavia. When she volunteers as tribute, he knows it's his responsibility to protect her. Clarke can't deny the connection she feels when they meet in the Capitol. She knows trust is dangerous, but why deny herself these simple pleasures?
1. Chapter 1: The Heavy Hand

**A/N: I'm super excited to begin to share this story! Sorry for the super long Author's Note here - I just feel like I wanted to give a bit of information about this fic!**

If you follow me on Twitter, you'll know I've been working on this idea for the last month. It's something that I've been extremely passionate about and have tweeted constantly about it. It started out as a project for Camp NaNoWriMo, where I set my goal to write 50, 000 words in 15 days. Not only did I achieve this, but I managed to hit 100, 000 words in just over 20 days. I'm currently just over half way done pre-writing this fic, so I figured it was time to start posting it! I've never written a fic so long before! Similarly, I've never written a fic so fast before. It's something I'm very excited about so I can't wait to share it all!

 **Now a few notes about the premise and the content of this fanfic...**  
-It is a Bellarke story, through and through. In saying that, this doesn't ONLY follow Bellarke - it focuses on Clarke's time in the Hunger Games. Of course, majority of her time will include Bellamy, but there is a focus on things without him.  
-I will be updating the tags as more chapters are posted. I've tagged as much as I could right now, but I'm still writing multiple chapters of this fic. While I have a plan for how this fic ends, I'm known to constantly change my mind!  
-You might need some background knowledge of the Hunger Games to read this fic. I tried to write it so anyone can read - even those who have never seen the movies/read the books. If you're ever confused by anything, please reach out and I'll be happy to provide further clarification.  
-This doesn't follow Katniss' story. This is set nearly 30 years before the books take place! Take what you want from that :)

 **WARNINGS** : this fic could be considered dark at times. I've limited the events to similar situations shown in either The Hunger Games or The 100... it will never include topics that weren't touched upon in either show (for example, there will be scenes of violence, but the descriptions will never exceed what was shown on screen in either fandom).  
I will try my best to include a list of warnings at the start of each chapter (some will include violence, substance use, language, etc).  
 _If anyone ever has any concerns, please reach out to me. I am more than happy to discuss this further with anybody!_  
For this reason, I have kept the rating of this fic to be consistent with the rating of both The 100 and The Hunger Games (teen) for now. I'll reconsider once I re-read what I have pre-written. Once again, I'm willing to discuss this with anyone.

 **I think that covers it all! Sorry again for the extremely long note. I hope you enjoy the chapter. xx**

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 **Chapter 1: The Heavy Hand**

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Clarke tugged on the hem of her grey dress, pulling the skirt lower on her body. Tension hung in the air just like humidity on a hot summer day – it was every where, and it was heavy. She could feel the same tension within herself – her shoulders were tight and her back rigid. She could feel her fingers trembling the slightest and her knees felt weak. Even though she had been expecting this day for the past year, she couldn't help but feel dread hanging over her like a cloud.

She always felt sick when it was time for the reaping – who wouldn't? Each year, two of her community members – her people – would be sent off to be murdered on live television. Each year, she would hear the cries of the families that lost their children. Each year, the friends of the tributes would gather and hold a small ceremony behind the school, paying homage to the children the Capitol refused to acknowledge. Each year, their district would be plunged into a pit of darkness and mourning, but nobody would be able to show their pain. _Nobody._

The Capitol did not want families to be seen mourning. They didn't want people to associate the Games with death, nor the intense sadness that followed. They wanted the Games to be seen as a happy occasion – as a celebration of how far they had come as a country since the Dark Days.

Clarke couldn't handle it. _Of course_ the family that lost their child would be filled with grief when their children was forced to fight for their lives. To think otherwise would be irrational; to think a family wouldn't mourn their child – to think their friends wouldn't grieve their lost brother or sister – was a fool's mindset. The Games weren't a celebration – they were a reminder that the districts had lost the war and they had to pay the price. The Games spilled the blood of innocent children; only once 23 children were murdered, would their hunger for revenge be quenched.

Each year, it was the same story.

The reaping was filled with tension, fear, and sometimes screams. Parents sobbed as their children were dragged into the town hall behind the stage. Friends held each other to keep from passing out. Peacekeepers leered at them, almost as if they didn't care someone they knew would be going to fight to the death.

As the children got sent to the Capitol, the district would have to act normal, but there was no way anybody could actually function. Her neighbours would share tense looks as they went to work in the morning. Whispers of condolences would be passed along to the family that lost their child while parents stood in the city centre to watch the Games. Mothers would hold their children that much tighter, scared that if they let them go, they too would be heading to the Capitol.

When the Games were on, that's when things got worse. They would be forced to watch pieces of the Games, no matter how brutal, as a reminder to everyone that _that could be them._ The Games were a sacrifice for the uprising 45 years prior, the uprising that ended in the destruction of District 13. They held the Games as a reminder to Panem; be grateful that we let you live. If you resist, you'll end up just like them.

Each year, districts gave two tribute to serve as a reminder that any uprising would be punishable by a gruesome death. Failure to bow down to the Capitol would result in their destruction. _Like what happened to District 13._

What a twisted world, run by an even more twisted government.

It was rare that a tribute from District 6 would win – after all, they focused on transportation and medication. While other Districts had the opportunity to hone skills that could be used in the arena, they didn't. They couldn't exactly kill an attacking tribute by drafting plans for future railroads, or by checking their vitals. The Victors were few and far in between – and even then, they would usually win by pure luck.

 _It was the same thing every year._

Over and over.

Reapings and death.

Reapings and death.

Reapings and death.

It was the vicious cycle that never stopped. Clarke didn't imagine the cycle would ever end either. The Capitol was too bloodthirsty and the districts were too scared.

Except, _it was different this year_.

The tides had turned. The odds weren't in her favor. In fact, she doubted there were any odds at all.

As Clarke was pushed towards the front of the crowd, she stretched her neck around, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of her mother. She hadn't seen her in so long, not since she was ripped from her bed. The Peacekeeper shoved her forward the slightest bit when she slowed down, making her stumble. She caught herself before she could tumble to the ground and kept her eyes straight ahead.

"Keep moving."

Clarke resisted the urge to snap back at him. Instead, she pressed her lips firmly together and kept walking. She learned the hard way that the more she talked back, the more miserable they made her life. Her wrists rubbed painfully against the metal cuffs around her wrists, rubbing away at her already raw skin. The hand clamped firmly on her shoulder seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. She had to fight every urge to throw it off her.

 _This year, the Games were different. Her life was different._

Before, she had been one of the girls in the crowd. She would stand with her friends, waiting to hear who the unlucky soul was who would be forced to march to their death. She would glance across the town square, locking eyes with her best friend. He would pull a face at her which would make her smile – Wells was the only one to be able to make her smile on such a devastating day. As the young girl who was reaped would walk up to the stage, her friends would let out small sighs of relief. _At least it wasn't them._

Then, once it was over, they would go back to their lives. Clarke would meet Wells at the library or at the park. Just last year, they sat under a tree in the park as he helped her cram for her anatomy quiz the next day. They ate fresh bread from the bakery and drank juice from the carton. _Life was simple back then._ Life made sense.

She could remember the exact events that lead her to this position with such clarity. It almost scared her how many details she remembered. _The way her quilt felt against her cheek that morning. The way the house smelt of apple pie after her mother finished baking the day before. How her hip bumped into her side table, spilling her study cards across her bedroom floor_. Although, the fact that she had been locked up in isolation for the past year with nothing else to think about could explain that fact. She frequently ran through the events that her life ended.

Last year, her father accidentally discovered a dark secret – one that nobody was ever supposed to find out. He was an engineer for District 6, one of the best. He just got a large grant to continue to develop an unmanned train system to go throughout Panem by using radio waves. His idea made headlines across the country. Government officials came to visit him. They received gifts and money from all sources; the Capitol, the citizens of the Capitol, wealthy citizens across Panem.

That was their downfall.

While working on the long-range radio, Jake Griffin picked up information that the Capitol thought they buried. District 13 was still alive.

Her father had been elated. She clearly remembered how excited he was that he found and contacted living people from a district that had supposedly been burnt to the ground 46 years prior. They made contact with a mother and a daughter living in the district. Clarke never spoke to them, but she heard their voices. They were real. They were human. They were alive.

And the Capitol had lied to them.

They told Panem that District 13 had been destroyed, there were no survivors. They had demolished the district for their part they played in the rebellion. They killed everyone; men, women, and children; mothers, fathers, sons, daughters. They took no mercy on the district. They paid for the crimes they committed.

The Capitol's wrath was what kept the other districts in line. If District 13 had never been destroyed, the Capitol would not hold the power they did. They would've won the rebellion and gotten out from under the thumb of the tyrants. District 13's destruction was what made the Hunger Games. They were a way to sacrifice children to the government, as a way to appease them and thank them for not destroying them like they did to District 13.

It was a lie.

District 13 was alive and well. They were never destroyed, the Capitol never wiped them out. They survived the Dark Days and the had managed to escape the hold the Capitol had on them. They survived, but the Capitol used their destruction to terrify the rest of Panem.

Her dad knew he had to tell the people – he had to protect his neighbours from all around Panem. They were being lied to, manipulated, and slaughtered _for nothing._ It was time the people knew the truth about District 13.

Her father had always been selfless. He always gave himself to whatever he could; being a good husband, a brilliant engineer, and an even better father. _He gave everything for his people._

Even his life.

After she heard the radio with her dad, her family became secretive. He was always whispering to her mother. They were always casting her strange looks. One night, Clarke overheard him discussing the matter with her mother – he wanted to tell their neighbours, but she didn't. She didn't want to catch the Capitols attention. She didn't want to start another uprising, or be accused of doing so. While they hadn't been part of the original uprising, their parents fought that battle. Nobody wanted to see that again.

Later that night, Clarke made the mistake of telling Wells – her closest friend. She was scared of what would happen to their family, regardless of if her father decided to tell Panem. Trusting him was the biggest mistake of her life – later that day, her father was executed for treason and she was imprisoned for attempted treason. She should have never trusted him. After all, he was the son of the mayor.

She had been in lock up for the past year, in complete isolation. She wasn't allowed any visitors. She wasn't allowed to see the stars, or the sun in the sky, or hear the birds sing. She had been trapped in a cell, with Peacekeepers to keep her company. _They never spoke to her. They never looked at her._ They only shoved her around the facility when she needed to move rooms. _That_ was the only human contact she had for almost a year. Even the light breeze on her skin made her feel like her skin was itching.

Now, she was outside for the first time in 347 days. This was the first time that she had seen the blue sky. This was the first time she had heard the birds chirping. This was the first time she felt the gravel under her feet. This was the first time she had heard human voices. _She almost forgot what they sounded like._

The rough hand on her shoulder was completely foreign to her. She hadn't felt the heat of another human in almost a year. The touch was not friendly and it felt sharp on her skin.

She would have to get used to that again. Human voices, human touches. She felt so isolated, even while standing in the middle of a crowd.

She knew she should've been terrified as she walked towards the reaping, she couldn't help but feel excitement growing in her stomach. _It almost felt like she was free._

But she knew.

 _She wasn't stupid. She wasn't naive._

She knew what this reaping meant to her.

The smile slipped off of her face. The icy fingers of death run up her spin, sending her hairs to stand on end.

Clarke knew that they couldn't keep her locked up forever. She would have to stand trial for her crimes as soon as she was an adult – just a few weeks away. They would never have her executed, especially for a crime that they couldn't tell the jury about. They also could never have her walk free – they knew she would speak as soon as she was out.

There was only one other option.

 _The Games._

Clarke knew this was it. No matter how hard the Capitol assured everyone that the draw was always random, she knew it was a lie. She knew that they could do whatever they wanted in these reapings, and they would always get away with it. Her name would be the only one inside that glass bowl on the stage – written hundreds of times over.

 _Clarke Griffin._

 _Clarke Griffin._

 _Clarke Griffin._

She wouldn't be set free – deep down she knew that. They would never let a criminal like her walk away with a secret as big as the one she held.

 _She was going to the Games._

"Right here." The Peacekeeper jerked her to a stop at the front of the large crowd. She could hear the whispers from the people around her, already gossiping about her. The Peacekeeper undid her handcuffs and left her alone.

She rubbed her wrists slowly, wincing as her fingers dug into her wrists. She twisted around, trying to catch sight of her mother. She looked for her signature white lab coat, but she couldn't see one. It had been a year since she seen her only family left. She was afraid she would never get to see her again. She doubted the Capitol would allow people to visitor her to say goodbye. She was a traitor. She held a secret that could cause uprisings and she was willing to speak. They would never let anyone speak to her again, fearing she would pass along the secret.

She didn't have too much time to ponder it. It wasn't even one minute after she was placed at the front when the escort for their district stepped onto the stage. Just like many other citizens of the Capitol, her hair and make up was done in an extravagant fashion. She rolled her eyes as the bubbly woman began her long winded speech about how _wonderful_ the Capitol was and how needed the Games were.

What utter garbage.

Not only had she heard this exact same speech dozens of times before, but she also knew every word coming out of her mouth was false. But that was the Capitol for you – their words were as fake as their hair.

As the woman spoke, Clarke glanced around the crowd. Her eyes passed over classmates that she hadn't seen since the night she was arrested, and she could feel her heart in her throat.

She didn't realize how painful it would be to see everyone. They all had their lives ahead of them. They all had the chance to live. They had the chance to go to school, become whatever they wanted, marry who they wanted.

 _Not her._

Her life had been in the hands of the government as soon as they deemed her dangerous. As soon as she knew their secret, she wasn't a kid anymore – she wasn't a citizen. She was a criminal. She was a threat that had to be exterminated.

 _She was going to die._

She paused on that thought as the escort kept talking. If she was reaped, there was no way she would be coming home. They wouldn't bring her to the Games, just to let her walk free in a few weeks. If she was going to the Games, it was so the Capitol could assassinate her without any questions asked. _That_ was the only time she would be treated like any other child. She would be lead to the slaughter.

"Now, let's move onto the main event." Those words hung heavily over the crowd. The whole act of the reaping reminded Clarke of poisonous animals – they looked pretty and inviting, but as soon as they drew you in, you would die. The reapings were always filled with the most beautiful people from the Capitol, sweet words would be read out loud, celebrations were to be had. But under it all? It reeked of death.

"Ladies first, hm?"

It was at this exact moment that Clarke's heart nearly stopped. She could feel her stomach turn to lead. The air was caught in her lungs.

 _She was going to die._

As soon as the lady read out her name from that paper, her life was officially sentenced. The Capitol would have effectively shut her up and eliminated their problem. She would be forced to go fight against people her age, each with stories similar to her own. They were all just children, trying to get home to their families.

And for what?

Clarke knew she would never make it out alive. She knew that the Capitol would never let her live, even if she was set to be the Victor. She held a secret they were desperate to keep.

She watched with baited breath as the escort stuck her hand into the glass bowl. She spun it around a few times with a sick smile on her face, almost as if she was picking candy from a store. This was all a game to her. Watching children die was a game to her – something to celebrate and look forward to.

Finally, her fingers latched onto a piece of parchment paper. She pulled it out of the bowl and stepped towards the microphone.

Even though Clarke hoped it wasn't going to be her, part of her _wanted_ it to be. She knew she would die by the Capitols hands eventually for her crimes – why shouldn't she be sent to the Games? At least this way, she would save someone else from dying. In a way, she would be saving a life.

She kept telling herself this. She would bare this so nobody else would have to. The Capitol would never let her live with the information she had, what was the difference if she was murdered by a Peacekeeper or by a child in the arena? This way, she could be free. She could be out of her cell. She could hear human voices, feel human touches.

 _In some ways, the Games could be her last taste of freedom._

The lady looked out into the crowd, the same twisted smile plastered on her face. She held the crowd's eyes, drawing suspense. They didn't care. They just wanted to know it wasn't their kid going off to die. They wanted to know who they would mourn this time, so they could get back to their normal lives.

"Clarke Griffin."

Her mouth instantly went dry and her ears began to ring. No matter how prepared she thought she was, nothing measured up to this. She never could have prepared herself for those agonizing seconds of _complete and utter silence,_ as everyone processed what had happened.

She could hear some girls whispering excitedly behind her – no doubt relieved that it wasn't _them_ going to the Games. Clarke wasn't upset by their excitement – she had been in their position before. She was happy they would have the rest of their lives to _live._ She was happy that she wouldn't have to witness another child go off to the Games, just to return home in a body bag.

Without wasting another minute, she stepped forward.

 _At least it isn't a far walk to the stage,_ she told herself dryly. She only had to take ten steps before she was climbing the stairs. Her heart was racing and her palms were sweating as she climbed the stairs to the stage.

She glanced to her side, staring at the crowd one last time.

 _That's when she saw her._

Her mother.

Her eyes landed on Abby, who stood at the back of the crowd. Her eyes looked hollow – almost like she hadn't slept in weeks. Her hair was pulled back into a braid that hung down the nape of her neck. She looked different than she remembered. Older. Wiser. Broken. She no longer wore her white coat, nor did she have her files in her hands. She was frozen on the spot as she watched her only daughter – her last family member – climb to her death.

Their eyes were locked as she climbed each step. She hadn't seen her in a year, but looking at her eyes seemed to bring her peace and strength. She remembered why she was here – why she was doing this. _It was for her father. It was for her family. It was for her people. It was her responsibility._ She could see it in Abby's eyes; she was broken as she watched Clarke. Clarke felt it inside her too.

 _This was the last time she was going to see her mother._

She knew she wouldn't be allowed to say goodbyes – after all, even if she was a tribute, she was still a criminal. They wouldn't grant her any of the _luxuries_ the other tributes would be given. No goodbyes. No training opportunities. _Nothing._

Clarke swallowed hard.

She peeled her eyes away from where her mother stood in shock, and continued her journey up to the stage.

 _I did this for my father. I did this for my family. I did this for my people._

 _I did this for my people._

 _For my people._

She kept chanting the mantra in her head, trying to convince herself that this was okay. It would be okay. Even if she was taking her first steps towards her death, _things would be okay._

Clarke knew deep down that she would be called to the Games, but she still held onto the sliver of hope that the Capitol wasn't a completely corrupted wasteland. She held onto hope that there were good people out there – people that wouldn't allow them to rig the reaping. _Yet here she was._ The Capitol was corrupt. They rigged to reaping to ensure she would be sent to her death.

It wasn't a mistake that she was called.

 _This was her punishment for her crimes._

She stepped towards the woman and reached to shake her hand.

 _She was in the game now._

 _Time to start playing._

She turned back out to the rest of the crowed, her eyes sweeping across the many people staring up at her. She didn't let her lips lift into a smile, nor did she laugh at the joke that the escort told. Her face was as stony as the mountains that outlined the Capitol. Her eyes were as cold as the snow that came in the winter. She wasn't a kid anymore. She wasn't just a criminal.

She was a tribute in the 45th Annual Hunger Games.

As she tried to keep her exterior cool and controlled, her mind raced and her heart pounded. _This_ had always been her worst nightmare – standing at the top of the stage, looking out at her district. This was the last time she would see these faces. This was the last time she would hear the constant horns of trains passing in the distance. This was the last time she would smell the distinct scent of fuel burning. She was going to lose her home and everything that came with it; her friends, her family. She was going to lose herself.

 _She was going to die._

"Now onto the men!" Clarke took a steadying breath. How could someone be so bubbly during a time like this? She was calling children to their deaths. She was ripping families apart.

The escort moved across the stage, to the second glass bowl. Just as she did moments before with Clarke, she stuck her hand in and spun it around. Unlike her own reaping, Clarke had no idea who would be called out. The escort pulled out a name and walked slowly to the microphone.

"Macallan Fr-"

"I volunteer." The voice didn't hold panic or desperation like she imagined people usually held as they spoke those exact words. He sounded calm and collected. He sounded like he had been waiting for that exact moment.

Before the escort could read out the full name of the boy who had been reaped, someone Clarke _never_ wanted to see again had stepped forward. His face was set in determination, refusing to show even a waver of weakness.

They locked eyes.

Suddenly, Clarke wasn't too sure if she could keep up her façade for the Games. While she knew she needed to remain neutral, all she wanted to do was punch him in the jaw.

Wells Jaha stepped forward, pulling away from the crowd of stunned students. _A volunteer was rare._ As he began to make his way to the stage, his father had jumped up from his seat on the stage. The mayor walked directly up to the Capitol officials sitting across from him, with fire in his eyes.

"No. _Not my son_." She could barely make out the words he was hissing furiously. She could see it in the way he held himself. _He was terrified._ As the officials tried to calm him down, he swatted their hands away. " _Not my son._ You hear me? I refuse to let this happen."

"Mayo-" Seeing he was getting nowhere with the Capitol officials, he stepped towards the escort.

"Who was reaped?" He snatched the slip of paper away from her. She let out a little squeak as he did so. He read the name to himself before turning to the escort again. "I'm sorry, but he will be the tribute. My _son_ is not volunteering." She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the words.

"Dad." Wells stepped onto the stage and pushed lightly against his father's chest. "Go sit down." The crowd had fallen completely silent. The Peacekeepers didn't know what to do. Wells pushed his father again, this time with more force. " _Go._ "

"Wells…" He shook his head, determination set in his jaw and fire in his eyes.

"I mean it, dad. _Go._ I volunteered." He glanced away from Jaha, making eye contact with Clarke. She broke it instantly. _Screw him._ "I'm going."

"Good!" The escort jumped in finally, pulling Wells away from Jaha's grasp. Those from the Capitol never seemed to shy away from conflict, even if it was for their best interest. "It looks like we have our male tribute!" As Jaha went to reach for him again, he was pulled to the side by the Capitol officials. A Peacekeeper placed their hand on his shoulder, keeping him securely away from the freshly reaper tributes. Clarke couldn't help but feel mixed emotions. Not even being the major's son could save you from the Games. The Games were cruel like that – it didn't matter if you were rich or poor, privileged or not, sick or healthy, skilled or untrained – they treated you like the same. They weren't kids. _They were animals sacrificed to appease the higher powers._ "What's your name?"

"Wells Jaha." His voice was strong, unwavering. Clarke was reminded of the time he tried to break apart the conflict on the playground when they were 8. It ended up with him getting a black eye. She hoped these Games didn't end the same way, with Wells suffering. Even though she despised him for what he did, he was her best friend once. It felt like life times ago, but she felt it in her. _She cared, even the slightest bit._

Once again, Wells and Clarke made eye contact. It killed Clarke to know she was going to be sent to fight to the death with Wells – her former best friend. Another part of her hated him, not only for volunteering, but for what he did to her father. He was the absolute last person she wanted to spend her final days with.

 _Screw it._

She didn't care about him. He ruined her life. That feeling she felt inside of her wasn't care for him; it was her mourning the man he used to be. He used to be her best friend. That boy standing beside her on the stage wasn't him. It was a monster.

"Well then, Wells, it looks like you want to be our latest star." She let out a giggle. Clarke wanted to vomit. "We are _so_ looking forward to having two strong tributes, such as yourselves, represent District 6 at the 45th Annual Hunger Games! Good luck to both of you, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

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 **A/N:** Thank you for reading. I appreciate everyone who has given me feedback already and encouraged me to post. I hope you know who you are when you read this. The biggest thank you to you all!

I will be posting frequently. I have a tentative schedule of **every Tuesday, when The 100 used to air.** I will announce changes to this if there are any. To see my latest updates in regards to writing this fic, as well as if I have planned to change my update time, please feel free to check my Twitter (Pawprinter1). I'll be posting many updates regarding writing there.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate any feedback left in reviews and really enjoy seeing other forms of feedback like favourites and follows! Like I said, I'm super nervous about finally posting this fic, so let me know what you're thinking so far.

See you all in a week


	2. Chapter 2: Time Ticks By

**A/N: A huge thank you to all of the love on the first chapter. I can only hope your enthusiasm for this fic continues with this chapter!**

 **There are no warnings specific to this chapter. I just wanted to quickly mention that death/dying is frequently mentioned in this fic (and becomes prominent in later chapters). If you are not comfortable with this topic, please beware that this is a theme.**

 **As for plans on this fic, I have 40 chapters planned right now. Currently, I have 27 of those chapters pre-written, so my updating schedule should be frequent up until the end of this fic. Like I mentioned last time, I will be posting updates in regards to the update schedule on my twitter (Pawprinter1). If you haven't seen a chapter from me at the regular time, I probably posted a quick tweet explaining why.**

 **Thanks again. Hope you enjoy!**

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 **Chapter 2: Time Ticks By**

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Clarke's head was spinning. Her thoughts were scattered around her mind, as if the wind had blown them away. She couldn't process what had just happened. _What just happened?_

She knew it was coming, but her mind still swam. She felt like she was watching herself from a distance as the reaping happened, as her hand was held up to show she was a tribute.

Even though she had hope deep down that she wouldn't be chosen as the tribute, she knew that she would have to compete in these Games. She had less than one month before she was put on trial for treason – something that the Capitol _never_ would allow. She would never be able to share her story to a jury or judge, nor would she be able to walk free for her crimes. She didn't have any remorse about what she did, only that she didn't act sooner on her actions. She would have done the same thing a hundred times over. For that, was always going to die; just like her father. They would pay the ultimate price, fighting for their people.

She had expected to be sent to the Games. She knew it was coming. She prepared herself for it. For the last year of her life, she had known this date was approaching. She knew her name would be the one on the card. _She knew._

What she hadn't known was just how much it would hurt. It hurt more than she ever imagined. Her soul felt like it was lit on fire, the anger and the intensity scorching her.

She didn't realize that she would experience a turning point while walking up the stage that made her realize _this was it._ She was standing in front of a crowd of people, being sent to die for wanting what was best for Panem – for her people. She could see all of her family and her friends in the crowd, staring at her as she marched to her death. She could feel the eyes of strangers on her, whispering about how _it wasn't them, thank the gods._

All of her friends were now of age, or were about to be within the next months – they were no longer eligible the Games. They could go on and live the lives they always dared to dream of. They could fall in love without the fear of having that ripped away. They could finally live without the fear of leaving their homes to die. They weren't living year to year – not any more. _They had their whole lives in front of them._

To say she wasn't the slightest bit jealous would be a lie. She could feel the _want_ to be like them gnawing at her soul, crying to be heard.

Clarke would have loved to grow old with her family. She always dreamed of becoming a doctor – someone that could save as many lives as possible. Living in a world ravaged by death had sparked her desire to prevent it as much as possible. She wanted to bring life into this world, not take it. She wanted to spend Sunday evenings with her parents at their house, looking at the dark sky as the stars appeared. She wanted to meet someone, fall in love. She wanted to _live._

So, even though she knew the day of her reaping was coming, she was still shocked by the pain she felt in her soul.

Her fists balled up at her sides and her teeth clenched tightly.

It didn't help that _he_ was with her.

She was lucky that she had been put into a separate room than he was to say goodbye to their families – not like she would actually be able to, as she was still technically a criminal. But she was thankful that they hadn't had a moment alone yet. She wasn't too sure what she would do when it came to him.

 _Wells Jaha._

He was the reason that her father had died. It hadn't been a coincidence that after she told him, her father was arrested, based on orders from his father. _No_. Wells Jaha betrayed her trust – it was the only thing that made sense. Only four people in Panem knew the secret that got her father killed; Jake Griffin, Abby Griffin, herself, and Wells. _Only one of them could've got her father killed_. He destroyed their seventeen years of friendship, just to what? Impress his father?

Clarke scoffed.

She knew that Wells was always doing his best to catch Jaha's eyes, trying anything to impress his dad. He had huge expectations placed on his shoulders by everyone – he was the mayor's son, after all. Not only that, but Jaha placed expectations on him bigger than the President's mansion. Wells did anything to meet those expectations, but she _never_ would have dreamed he would do what he did. She never imagined that he would betray her so easily just to make his dad happy.

It didn't matter anyways. No matter what the reason was behind his actions, she would never forgive him. He took away her father's life. He took away her family. He took away her future. He was the reason why she was sent into the Games. He was the reason why she wouldn't be able to live the life she had dreamed of.

And for what?

 _For what?_

Clarke let out a breath of air she was holding, hoping that her anger would dissipate with it. She knew that he was going to try to speak to her. They were walking into the Games together, _of course_ he would be trying to talk to her. They would be travelling to the Capitol together, living together, training together. They would be spending the last few weeks of their lives together.

 _And Clarke hated it._

She hated him.

She wasn't too sure why he had volunteered. Did it make sense to him, in his twisted mind, that volunteering to die alongside her would make her forgive him? Did he think that, all of a sudden, all of his past failures would be erased?

 _No._

No matter what, Clarke would _never_ forgive him for what he did. She never asked him to volunteer – he did that himself. Whatever plan he had, she didn't want to be a part of it. She didn't want to talk to him, never mind train with him and become allies with him. If he wanted to try to make amends with her before her death, then so be it. Let him try. He would just be very disappointed.

Clarke leaned back on the single wooden chair in the room she was placed in, her head falling to her hands. The room was a modest size, at least compared to her cell she spent the last year in. It was bare, with the single chair in the far corner. There weren't any windows present, which reminded her a lot of lock-up. She hoped that she would be able to see a little more of her home before she was ripped from it, but it looked like that wouldn't be possible. _She was going to have to get used to disappointment._

She pushed all worries out of her head as the door cracked open. It was an old door with rusted hinges, squeaking obnoxiously when it was opened or closed. A Peacekeeper entered, her face as cold as snow.

"You have a visitor." While the Peacekeeper's voice was disinterested, Clarke had never felt more passionate. Her heart jumped to her throat and she leaped out of her chair.

"A visitor? I thought… I'm…?" She couldn't even complete her thoughts. She thought that she wouldn't be allowed any visitors. After all, she just spent the last year in isolation. Why would that change now? She was still willing to tell Panem – or whoever that was willing to listen – that District 13 was alive. She wanted to tell anyone that walked through that door that the Capitol was lying to them. _What changed now?_

"You're a tribute for the 45th Hunger Games. Your past crimes are waived for your participation." Clarke's mind tried to process what this meant. She wasn't a criminal? She could have visitors; she could say goodbye to her mother. She could feel her fingers trembling against her leg. She balled them up into a fist, trying to hide her excitement.

"I'm no longer on isolation?" She hoped that the Peacekeeper didn't think her voice sounded as odd as she thought it did. The Peacekeeper shook her head. Clarke tried to contain the smile that was slowly forming on her face. _Play the Game. No emotion._ Her face fell back into a neutral position. "I'll be able to get visitors?"

"You're a tribute now." The Peacekeeper must've thought that she made her statement clear earlier – she was clearly getting annoyed. "You're required to participate in all activities." Even though she could hear the words that were said to her, she was having a tough time truly processing what it meant.

She wasn't in isolation any more.

She was going to be able to interact with anybody she wanted. She could say goodbye her mother – one final conversation. She could speak to other tributes if she wanted, maybe form an alliance with one.

She was going to be expected to take place in 'festivities,' like interviews and training. She wouldn't be going into the Games completely blind – she would be able to learn survival skills. She would be able to be shown off to Panem in the tribute parades and the interviews.

Clarke was struck by one thought.

 _She was going to be able to interact with the other tributes._

Clarke wasn't sure if this was a good thing – after all, they were all going to be trying to kill each other in a few short weeks. Still, at the prospect of being able to talk with another human brought her a sense of peace.

It had been too long since she had the opportunity to interact with whoever she wanted to. The Peacekeepers weren't friendly to her, and she wouldn't count her interaction with the escort on stage as normal. The prospect of hearing human voices, seeing someone's face light up while in a conversation, and hearing laughter brought her an excitement she never felt before. She almost felt like she was dying of thirst, and a glass of ice cold water had just been placed in front of her.

 _She wanted it. Badly._

"Are you going to take your visitor, or not?" Clarke couldn't speak, so she merely nodded her head. While the Peacekeeper disappeared, Clarke tried to calm her roaring thoughts. A few seconds later, her mother walked in.

"Mom!?" Her voice broke. Her heart nearly burst when she seen her mother walk into the room. Clarke took several large steps towards Abby, instantly reaching for her. Abby mirrored her actions and reached out to her daughter. Clarke melted into her arms for the first time in a year. _She was home._ Something inside of her shifted and she felt her face twist in pain. _She was home, but it wasn't for long._ "I never thought I'd see you again."

The soft touch of Abby's hands on her shoulder brought the whole world crashing around her.

 _This was goodbye._

At that thought, Clarke couldn't help but let a few tears leave her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers went numb. She buried her nose deeper into her mother's shoulder, letting her tears get wicked away by the fabric. Her fingers dug painful into her shoulders, trying to hold her as tightly as possible. Her mother tightened her grip on her too, scared that if she were to loosen her grip, her daughter would be gone.

Every time Clarke thought she had accepted the fact she was going to die, she was wrong. She would realize something new – something that she would never have again, something that she would miss, something that she would give up to pay for her so-called crimes.

 _Like Abby's touch._

She would never feel the soft touch of her mother again. She would never have Abby run her fingers through her hair, like she did when she was a little girl. She would never be able to get a hug from her again. She would never hear her voice again – that very voice that sung her to sleep with soothing lullabies and taught her how to do CPR. She would never get to discuss new medical procedures with her, nor would she be able to talk about something as simple as her day. Abby would never be able to comfort her and encourage her again.

 _She would never be able to be a daughter again._

Her mother would be truly left alone in the world. She lost her husband, now she was going to lose a daughter. It broke Clarke's heart. Not only was she punished for her crimes by being sent into isolation and now the Hunger Games, but her mother was punished too. Everything she loved – her family – had been ripped away.

Clarke pulled away from her mother's shoulder, furiously wiping the tears away from her eyes. No matter how heartbroken and shocked she would be, she didn't have the time to cry. She was in the Games, and there were no room for errors. It was about survival and the show now. Everything she did had to be part of her strategy.

"You're going to be okay, Clarke." Abby pulled away as well, looking her dead in the eye. "Out of anybody in District 6, I believe in you the most." Clarke couldn't help but let out a wet laugh at this.

"You have to say that. You're my mom." Abby didn't immediately respond. Instead, she brushed her fingers against Clarke's face, pulling some stray hairs out of her eyes. Clarke leaned into her touch. She was almost brought to tears again. "I'm going to miss you." Clarke's voice wavered as she spoke, overcome with emotion.

"I'll miss you too, but we'll meet again. _This is not the end_." Her words were fierce and determined. Abby forced out a smile and squeeze her hand. Clarke wanted to protest – they would never let her win; they would never let her live. Instead, she chose to savour this peaceful moment with her mother – the last one she would ever get. She didn't want to taint it with an argument that she knew she wouldn't win. Finally, Abby stroked Clarke's head once again and stared into her eyes lovingly. "You've grown so much."

"You've changed, too," Clarke whispered. The two women shared a small smile. It had been a year since they last seen each other – a year since Jake Griffin was ripped from their house to get executed. So much had changed since then. They both faced trials, they both had failures. _They've changed_. Clarke wasn't too sure if the pain in her heart was from the fact that this would be the last time she would see her mom, or if it was because she hardly recognized the woman in front of her anymore. She missed out on so much while she was in isolation.

"Your father would be so proud," Abby said with a strained voice. It was clear to Clarke that she was trying her best to hold back tears. Seeing her pained expression made Clarke's throat close up with an intense wave of sadness. "You're just like him. So strong, so determined, so brave. He would be so proud to know that when faced with a challenge, you didn't shy away." She so desperately wanted to tell her mother that, if she could, she would have done anything to stay away from the Games. _She kept her mouth shut._

"I wish he was still here." Clarke smiled weakly, trying her best to focus on the happiness her father had brought her before his death. She didn't want to remember the pain of his death – not at a time like this. She wanted to honour him by thinking of his life. It felt like if she only thought of his death, she would be doing him a disservice. He had so much more to offer than just his death. _He brought her life and happiness._ He was willing to do the same for Panem. "I miss him."

"I miss him, too," she echoed. "Which reminds me; you're allowed one token to be brought into the arena." Abby reached into her pocket and pulled out an item Clarke would have sworn she never would have seen again.

 _Her father's watch._

It was just like she remembered; warn and rugged. It was something he wore every day for as long as she could remember. Even when the strap had begun to fall apart and the arms stopped ticking, he elected to fix it instead of buying a new one. He had told her that, no matter what he faced in his life, time was always a constant – and that watch had reminded him of that.

Clarke liked that. No matter how tough life got, time never changed. Time passed the same for everybody. When she was imprisoned, it was the only thing that she had that was consistent. She felt like the Capitol could take everything away from her, but they could never take away the consistency of time. It brought her a sense of peace when she had nothing.

That watch had been with him up until his death, where he had taken it off and passed it to Abby seconds before he was executed. Clarke had thought that Abby would have kept it for herself, no matter what. It was the last token of her husband – the man she loved.

 _Yet, she was offering it._

Clarke reached forward, her hands shaking. She grasped the object in her hands and tried to fight back the tears that flooded her eyes at the memories of her father. Just feeling the cool surface of the watch against her skin made her feel like his death was only the day before. It made her feel closer to him, but it also tore her heart to shreds.

Now she would have a piece of him when she died. She would be reminded of home and of her family as her life was drained. She would be reminded of _him;_ the strongest man she ever knew _._ She would be reminded of the reason why she had been in prison, and why she had been forced to compete in the Games; for her people and _for her father_.

"You don't have to use it," Abby added quickly when Clarke didn't respond. "He always wanted you to have it, but they wouldn't let me pass it along to you when you were… when you were locked-up." She struggled to speak of the horrors the two of them faced within the last year. Hearing her mom talk about it almost made the whole year feel more real. _It hurt._

"It's perfect. Thank you." Once again, the two women connected in a hug. This time, it wasn't filled with pain and urgency – it was only filled with love and warmth.

"I only have another minute until we have to part ways." Clarke stiffened and her arms tightened around her mother's body. _She didn't want her to go – not yet._ She barely had any time. She hadn't seen her in a year, and this was all she got before she left? _No._ "Fight your hardest, Clarke. _Fight._ You can _win._ You can come _home._ We can be a _family._ "

"They won't let me win, mom." Clarke couldn't take it anymore. She _had_ to tell Abby that this was it – she would never be coming back home. She couldn't let her go on, thinking that Clarke could come home. _This was it._ This was goodbye. "If nobody else kills me, they will. They'll frame it to look like an unfortunate happening in the arena, but we'll both know the truth. _They would never let me live_." Abby shook her head with such ferocity.

"No, Clarke. _This is it._ If you win, you'll be able to come home. I did research over the last year, ever since you were arrested. At the 16th Hunger Games, the Victor was a criminal, too. He was from District 2 – had been imprisoned for crimes much worse than yours." Clarke briefly wondered what his crimes were if they were worse than treason. "He won and he got to go home. He got to live." Clarke felt the room start to spin once again. _She could win? She could go home?_ "This isn't the end. This isn't your path to death. _This is your path to life._ This gives you a chance to live."

"Live?" Clarke's mind went completely blank. _She could actually survive?_ This didn't have to be goodbye? _She could come home?_

"Yes, Clarke. _Live._ You can come home after all of this is over, and we can go back to normal." Abby pulled away from the hug finally, so she could look Clarke dead in the eye. "You're going to have to fight. Be strong. Be brave. Your instincts will tell you to take care of everyone else, just like your father did. But be careful – I can't lose you too."

"Time." The door was shoved open and several Peacekeepers stood at the door, itching to tear a family apart. Clarke wondered if they actually enjoyed carrying screaming children and crying mothers away from the tributes. Abby took a step away from her daughter, her mouth set in a determined line. Clarke followed her example and relaxed her features. _Play the Game. No emotion._

"I love you, Clarke. We _will_ meet again." With those words left hanging in the air, she was taken out of the room.

Once again, Clarke was left completely alone. Even though she spent the last year alone, she never felt like this. _She felt like she had lost something._ She had grown used to being alone – she was used to that emptiness inside of her. But having her mother beside her reminded her of what _used_ to be. To have it ripped away made her feel like there was an even larger hole in her soul than before.

She stumbled towards the chair and fell into it. Her head fell into her hands, her fingers curling around her hair. She could feel panic rising inside of her, but also a sense of hope. Her heart was racing so fast that the only sounds filling her ears was the rush of blood. The constant thump of her heart calmed her.

She could go home.

 _She could go home._

Was her mother right – was the Games a way of setting her free? Was it not a way of executing her, but a way of freeing her?

Clarke was near tears.

Could she actually get what she always dreamed of? Could she live the life that she had always wanted?

While in isolation, she had a lot of time to think of _what she really wanted in life._ She knew that she wanted to study for years on end. She wanted to save people. She wanted to be a doctor. She wanted to get a dog – or maybe a cat, she wasn't too sure. She wanted to save as many lives as possible, and change the lives of those around her. She wanted to inspire people to do their best; to be their best. She wanted to fall in love one day, with the right person. After that, she didn't know. She never got that far. It was too painful to think about her future that far in advanced. _She knew it wasn't meant to be._

Could she _actually_ go home? Could she accomplish what she dreamed of?

A sinking feeling replaced the glimmer of hope that she had felt. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dropped on her head, sending shocks right to her core.

 _If she were going to win, she would have to fight._

Dread like no other crept up her spine. It sucked all of the air out of the room, leaving her breathless. She struggled to get air into her lungs with that realization.

She was going to have to fight _children._ The one thing she wanted in life was to save people, but to save herself, she was going to have to kill. _The thought made her sick_. She felt like she was physically going to get ill.

Just as she was on the brink of panic, the door to her room was pushed open again. Her eyes darted to the door, expecting a Peacekeeper to be standing there. _Was it already time to go?_

Her eyes connected with the last person she wanted to see, other than maybe his son – Mayor Jaha.

Clarke's eyes narrowed and she squared her shoulders. She shoved all of her panic and her confusion into the corner of her mind. She had always been a fighter – someone to push their own feelings away for the sake of survival and for the sake of getting things done. Even though seeing the man that ordered her father's death cut her to the bone, she kept her expression stony.

"Clarke." The greeting wasn't warm, not by far. For a man that she once considered a second father, he was acting like he hadn't seen her before. _Good,_ she thought, _I don't want to deal with him anyways._ It would be harder to interact with him if he tried to be her friend – acting like he didn't murder her father.

"Jaha." He greeting was cold too. He didn't deserve any warmth from her. She was satisfied when the small smile he held slipped off of his face.

He didn't deserve to walk into her space, talking to her like nothing had changed. He also didn't deserve to treat her like they were never close. She _wanted_ him to acknowledge the fact that it was his decision that tore her family apart. She _wanted_ him to treat her like he had regrets – because she _wanted_ him to feel that way. She wanted him to regret killing her father and for sending her to prison. No matter how much she tried to forgive him while in isolation, she could not forget who stood idly by while her world fell apart.

She always prided her self on forgiveness, but she was in no state of mind to forgive what had happened. Now, as she was on the path to competing in the Games, it only reinforced her bitterness towards this man. If he had kept the secret for his son, she never would have had to witness her father's death, she never would have been locked up, and she never would be heading to the Games.

"I came by to see how you are doing." He stood several paces away from her, hovering in the doorway. Clarke got up from her chair and walked to meet him.

"Funny. You never checked up on me while I was in _your_ prison." They eyed each other, neither one wanting to be the first to advert their eyes. It was a silent battle between them, one that wasn't declared nor spoken about, but _they knew._ "What do you want?" Still she didn't remove her gaze from his. Finally, he broke and he adverted his eyes to the ground.

"My son."

With those two words, Clarke could barely contain her anger. _Well Jaha._ Of course he would come here to talk about his precious son – his son that could do no wrong. _Tough._ They were both going to the Games, whether Jaha liked it or not. After all, _no child_ was safe. Not even his.

"What about him?" Clarke tried to keep her tone uninterested, but she feared she failed at that. She had too much anger and resentment inside of her to completely distance herself from it. Why would Jaha be running to her? There wasn't anything she could do now – they both were the tributes.

"I want you to make sure he stays safe." Clarke choked on her spit.

" _What?!_ " She took a few steps back in disbelief and narrowed her eyes. Who would ask such a thing from her? She wanted her to help keep Wells safe, after all he did to her? Even if she didn't know Wells, who did Jaha think he was to ask that of any tribute. _Out there, it was everyone for themselves._

"I want you to watch out for Wells. Help him. Protect him. He's just a kid – he doesn't know what he's doing." Clarke let out a bitter bark of laughter.

"I'm just a kid, too! Do you think I _planned_ to go to the Games? Do you think I'm _prepared_?" Her voice was filled with venom, and he flinched slightly with each sentence. "Wells is going in there with just as much training as I've had – absolutely _none._ And you're asking me to risk my life for him? So he can what? So he can come home to you?"

"He has an important future here." His attempt at explaining his ridiculous request was weak.

"More important than mine?" she countered. He didn't respond and she knew that he realized his mistake. He was prioritizing his child, forgetting that _everyone_ going to the Games was someone's child. "More important than any other child in this district? More important than any other child in Panem? You heard the Capitol, Jaha – no child is safe from the reaping. We pay the price for the uprising decades ago – _all of us_. Just because he's your son doesn't make him _special._ " Clarke stalked up to him, her eyes boring into his. He could feel the waves of anger roll off of her.

"All I'm asking is for my son to come back to me. You understand, don't you?" Every word he spoke only fed the fire growing in Clarke. Her eyes sparked dangerously.

"Of course I understand – _I_ want to come back to my mother, too. There can only be one victor. You do realize what you're asking, right? You're asking me to die, so he can live."

"He volunteered for you." The words filled the room with a heaviness Clarke hadn't experienced before. Of course she knew that Wells had a motive behind him volunteering – she just hoped that motive wasn't her. _Of course_ it was though. He thought that volunteering for the Games with her would somehow make up for what he did.

"I never asked him to do that," she pointed out, her voice completely empty. She felt numb. They stared at each other for another long moment. "If you're asking me not to kill him, you don't have to worry. I could never do that to him – no matter what happened." Clarke couldn't help but feel the lump rising in her throat. Even if she hated him, she could never kill him. He had been her best friend once.

"Thank you." Relief flooded Jaha's features.

"But, I'm not going to protect him." The look of relief dropped from Jaha's face. "He volunteered for the Hunger Games. He's going to have to do a lot more than just rely on others to protect him. I'm not going to give my life for his, I'm sorry. I want to get back home and to my family just as much as any of us walking into that arena." Jaha was silent for a long time, mulling over her words. She tried to keep it as friendly as possible, despite wanted to snap at him for suggesting she give her life for Wells'. He nodded his head slowly.

"Good luck, then. Just keep in mind – Wells has given up lots to you. Don't forget that." With that, Jaha left the room.

 _Clarke was seething._

Of course Wells had given plenty to her, but she had given just as much to him. They were best friends – right up until the moment that he betrayed her trust and killed her dad. They had been partners and equals. He was the one person that she could trust. He was the one person that cared about her the most.

For his father to come to her and ask her to die for him was beyond ridiculous. She was angry that he even considered asking her. Did he not understand it wasn't _just a Game?!_ He was asking her to lay down her life so his son could come home to him.

Clarke wasn't going to do that.

She wanted to come home too. She wanted to live the life she dreamed of. She wanted to live just as much as Wells did.

She never asked him to volunteer for the Games. All she asked was for him to keep what she told him a secret, and he didn't do that.

She didn't want this. She didn't want to have to be allies with the boy responsible for her father's death. She didn't want to have to spend what might be her last week on Earth with him. She didn't want to talk to him, either. She wasn't ready to hear what he had to say – because it came down to him betraying her. No matter the reasoning, he betrayed her trust. _That would not be forgiven with a simple 'I'm sorry.'_

Clarke grit her teeth and dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. There was a sharp pain from where her nails dug into her skin.

The _nerve_ Jaha had to come and beg for his son's life. Did he save her dad's life when she begged? Did he save her from jail when her mother begged?

No.

Yet, here he was, asking her to die for his son.

Her mind was spinning in circles, trying to process everything. Things were moving too fast. Too many things were happening.

As the door to her room was pushed open one more time, she knew that _this_ was her new reality. She better get used to her head spinning and things moving too fast – after all, she was headed to the Hunger Games.

* * *

 **A/N: Please note, there are two lines in this chapter that came directly from the show ("The 100," episode one). The two lines are below.**  
 **-"This gives you a chance to live."**  
 **-"Your instincts will tell you to take care of everyone else, just like your father did. But be careful – I can't lose you too."**  
 **I felt both of these lines portrayed both situations very well, so I really wanted to use them. Full credits to "The 100".**

 **Thanks once again for reading. I can't express how thankful I am about the wonderful response to last chapter! All of the reviews, favourites and follows blew me away. THANK YOU! I'm very passionate about this fic, so to see others getting excited about it makes my day.**

 **Leave me more of your thoughts in a review! How do you all think Bellamy will get introduced?**

 **I just wanted to say sorry for the late update! I know I said I would stick to 8/7c as much as I could, but it didn't work out today. To make up for the few hour delay in posting, I plan to post an additional update sometime this week. I'm unsure when that'll be, but keep an eye out for it!**

 **See you in a few days!**


	3. Chapter 3: Away From Home

**A/N: This update is a little earlier than usual! This update comes a little early than the Tuesday schedule to make up for my late update last week.**

 **I've been trying to update for the last few days actually, but this chapter was longer than I remembered writing! I try to keep my chapters between 4000-6000 words, but this one is over 8000! It's** ** _so_** **much longer than I remember writing, but there's a bunch of things that needed to get done in this chapter.**

 **Warnings: there is minor swearing in this chapter, mentions of death, and we get to see how the Games impacted some previous victors (which includes being haunted by their Games, having fears about returning to the Capitol, etc).**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Away From Home**

* * *

The door to the room was pushed open and a single Peacekeeper stepped into the room. She could tell that he was high up in the ranks, based off of the lines on his uniforms. He wore a face mask, completely hiding all emotion from her. With the mask on, he didn't look human. _He looked like a monster._

Clarke squared her shoulders and stared for a long moment at him. He shut the door behind him loudly before walking up to her. As he got closer, she stood up from the wooden chair. Her fists clenched at her sides so hard that her nails dug into her skin.

"Griffin." His voice was gruff, almost like he had just inhaled a bunch of smoke from a forest fire. It made her hairs stand straight up as a chill zipped down her spine. "You were told that you are no longer in isolation?" She couldn't find her voice to say anything, so she nodded. While she had been around Peacekeepers plenty in the last year, they still scared her stiff. They were will known for inflicting torture and for ripping families apart. _They ripped her family apart._ They dragged her father away from their home and shoved her to the side as she screamed. _She had good reasons to be scared of them._

"Yes." Her voice came out stronger than she felt, and, for that, she was relieved. She tried to relax her posture. _She didn't want him to know just how uneasy she was around him._

"I have a message from the high ranks." Even though she couldn't see his face, she could hear his sneer in his voice. She could imagine how twisted his expression was under the helmet. She had to fight her instincts to glower back. "You talk, you die."

Her veins iced over.

 _What?_

"If you mention anything of what you know, we will kill you." With every word he spoke, the ice crept closer to her heart. She felt sick from his threats. "We will kill you and whoever you told. Your loved ones will pay the same price." She didn't dare show any emotion on her face, but her mind was full of turmoil. Fear hit her over and over like waves on a beach. The Capitol was threatening to kill her if she told anyone of District 13. If she told anyone about their secret, they would also kill whoever she told. _And his last sentence._ He would kill her mother for her crimes too. She felt like the cold hand of death was clenched on her heart. "Keep your mouth shut, got it?" She didn't say anything. He took a threatening step towards her. Her teeth clenched tighter. "Got it?"

"Got it." Her voice sounded hallow. She swallowed thickly and stared straight into his mask, right where she knew his eyes were. He stared at her for a long moment before nodding his head. He turned around to leave the room and Clarke slumped her shoulders forward the slightest bit.

 _They just threatened to kill her and her mother._

 _They threatened to kill her and whoever she told._

 _They were willing to kill innocent people to keep their secret safe._

They made every inch of her skin crawl with disgust. The Capitol was despicable and disgusting. They were willing to go to such extreme lengths to keep her quiet and to kill her – just so she wouldn't tell her neighbours the truth. _They deserved to know the truth. They deserved to know their own government was using them, lying to them, and killing them for nothing._

She had never felt so lost and so frustrated before. At least, not in a year. She knew this feeling well, from when she was first thrown in lock-up. She was silenced unfairly. Her family was punished when they were trying to do the right thing. _It wasn't fair. It wasn't right._

The Peacekeeper opened the door and several others stepped in, each with their hands over their weapons. She glared at them. What did they think she would do? Fight her way out? She wasn't stupid. She knew she could never escape this fate.

Another Peacekeeper stepped forward. She half expected them to pull out handcuffs like they usually did, but they never came. The Peacekeeper stepped towards her and she knew what that meant.

 _It was time._

It was time for her to leave her district. It was time for her to leave her home and her people. She had to leave her old life behind for a second time in her life. _It was time to leave herself behind too._ She wouldn't be able to truly be herself during the Games. She had an image to create – a Game to play. _From now on, she would have to act a certain way to save her life._

This was the last time she would every truly get to be herself.

Clarke pressed the cool metal of her father's watch onto her palm and collapsed it into place as she walked towards the Peacekeepers hovering at the doorway. One Peacekeeper caught hold of her under her elbow and yanked her arm roughly up, the other placed her hand on her shoulder. For someone who wasn't used to being in the custody of the Capitol and the Peacekeepers, she could only imagine how uncomfortable their uniforms and their rough grips would make them. For her, this was just any other day.

The Peacekeepers lead her towards the waiting train across the district. She almost felt elated as she was tugged out of the building. _She would get to see parts of her home district one last time._ It was more than she had seen in the last year.

The walk from the town hall to the train station had been cleared of people, giving Clarke an off feeling. She had never seen so little people present in the streets before. The streets were usually buzzing and full of life. Seeing them so empty filled her with a chill that was hard to describe. _She had spent the last year by herself, but she had never felt so alone._ It felt like she was walking through the ghosts of her past – the ghosts of a future that was never meant to be.

Her heart hurt as she was lead through town. She would never be able to help her mother carry home groceries from the local store, laughing with her over something meaningless. She would never be able to go to the school across the town, studying her hardest for an upcoming test. She would never be able to whisper her vows to the person she loved under the biggest oak tree at the edge of town – one of the oldest trees in the district. She would never be able to skip along the sidewalk with her daughter, sharing an ice cream cone with her and a sweltering day.

 _She wouldn't get to do anything anymore._

Her life was over. She didn't have a future. She was just a tribute.

She heard what her mother told her. _It was possible to win as a criminal._ It had been done before, so it would be possible again. But, somehow, hearing the threats from the Peacekeeper made her question that. Would they allow her to win?

Why would they? They would always have the risk of her speaking up about District 13 for the rest of her life. How would they ever be sure that she hadn't told anyone?

No. It was naive to think that way. _They were going to kill her._ It was the easiest way to keep her quiet.

 _This was it._

She looked around the empty streets one more time, trying her hardest to memorize the feeling of the rough roads under her shoes, the smell of the burning fuel, and the sound of train whistles. She tried to memorize the feel of the sun beating down on her head, and the slight breeze that always seemed to find its way to her on hot summer days. She tried to memorize the sight of the brick buildings that lined the streets, some tipping haphazardly.

The hands on her arm and her shoulder released when the climbed the steps to the platform of the train. The hand on her shoulder pushed her roughly as she slowed her walk. She forced her face to remain emotionless. She took one final look at the district – her home – and climbed into the train.

Her heart broke as soon as her foot left the ground. Somehow, she felt like this was goodbye. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she wouldn't be returning to her home – not ever again. _This was it. This was goodbye._

She quickly pushed those thoughts away and walked further into the train, trying to fill her mind with anything other than the pain she felt.

It was nothing like she had ever seen before, which was saying something, as District 6 had a focus in transportation. She had grown up around trains, trolleys, and rovers her whole life. But this? This wasn't a train for transportation – it was a luxury item.

The train as unlike anything she had ever seen. She guessed her father had been right - the Capitol didn't care how ridiculous they looked, as long as they had the best stuff and spent the most money. He once told her that even if they knew two products were identical, they would _always_ choose the more expensive of the two. She remembered laughing at that, thinking he was joking. Seeing the train completely wiped those thoughts from her mind. _He wasn't kidding. They spent money like she drank water._

Her father had been an engineer for the Capitol, focused on improving transportation around the districts. Clarke wondered if her father helped design the transport train she was currently walking on.

Jake was one of the only people in Panem granted access to travel across Panem, and was even invited to the Capitol on several occasions. He had been popular among the wealthy; he was always working hard to improve life around their country. He always brought her back gifts and had the most amazing stories, but not even his friendship with the elite saved him.

The walls of the train were made out of glossy wood. She could practically see her reflection in the shine as she walked down the hallways. Mirrors adorned the walls, making her disoriented. They seemed to be placed everywhere she looked. Glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling, light bouncing off of them and reflecting dancing patterns on the walls.

Clarke couldn't help but be amazed by the beauty. It was extravagant and she had never seen anything like it before. While she grew up privileged, not even her family could afford to live life like this. She was torn between being amazed and disgusted by the amount of money the Capitol spent on material items, when they could have been giving this money to the districts. She couldn't even imagine how many illnesses they could treat and how many treatments they could develop with money like that. _Instead of saving their people, they chose to spend it on luxury items._

Why was she surprised? This was the same government that lied to the whole country about destroying a district. If they would stoop that low to keep their position of power, they could do almost anything.

As she walked further into the train, she realized that everywhere she looked had a feature on it that screamed luxury. Fresh flowers sat in the tables, fresh fruit sat in bowls. Gold finishing was everywhere - on the table, the chairs, the vases. Stone end tables with intricate carvings were placed around the room. Artwork hung in the walls.

Clarke couldn't help but smile. While her family hadn't been as rich as the Capitol citizens were, they never struggled. In fact, they were one of the wealthier families in the district - with her mother being a top doctor and her father being the head engineer. While her house was never plated in gold, she almost felt at home among the artwork. She had always loved art - both looking at it and creating it. There was something that freed the mind and lifted her spirits whenever she held a pencil or a paintbrush. Her family home had been covered in artwork, which helped spark her love for it. Being surrounded by paintings once again filled her with a sense of peace – _she almost felt like she could be at home among the art._

This very sense of peace was tarnished just as quickly as it came.

"I need to talk to you." Wells walked up beside her, his voice hard and determined. Clarke took a sharp inhale of air from being startled and glared at him fiercely. She knew this moment was coming, but she hoped that he would get the hint. _She wanted nothing to do with him._

"Why?" Her voice was cold and her eyes were sharp. He didn't glance away from her stare like she hoped he would, which made her even more frustrated. Who did he think he was, to come up to her and demand to talk to her? The last time she talked to him – truly talked to him – her father was assassinated and she was arrested. _She wasn't going to make that mistake again._ "What could you possibly have to say to make me feel better?" Her tone was as harsh as her glare.

"Look, Clarke, I'm sorry." He shifted awkwardly on his feet and he wound his fingers together in front of his body. She knew him well; she had spent years of her life with him. _He was nervous._ And… guilty? She couldn't tell exactly, but she could feel his tension. Before he betrayed her, she would've softened her glare. _Now, it only made her glare harder_. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Right." Her voice was sarcastic and sharp. She barely recognized it, but, then again, she barely recognized herself. _The past year of her life had changed her more than she realized._ "You only meant to kill my father." She scoffed and rolled her eyes. She knew that wasn't what he meant, but she couldn't help the acid from seeping into her voice. _She was beyond angry at him._ A simple apology wasn't going to mend all the gaping holes in their relationship.

"No, I-" A wave of anger overcame her. She turned to him, her cheeks flushing red.

"Really, Wells, what were you thinking!? _I trusted you_!" Before he could answer Clarke shook her head fiercely, keeping him silenced. "I don't know why you're here - but just leave me alone. I don't want to hear your excuses." Wells stared at her for a long moment, seeking for forgiveness in her eyes. She didn't soften her gale.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me." Her fists clenched at her side again. This time, she could've sworn her nails drew blood from cutting so deeply into her palm. Did he really expect to believe he came to the Games just to say sorry? If he was so desperate, he could've easily come to visit her before she left for the Capitol. _No._ There was another motive behind him volunteering. _One that she didn't want to find out about._

"So you risked your life just to tell me you're sorry? I doubt it." As he opened his mouth, Clarke shook her head again. He clamped it shut. "Don't. Just... don't. Leave me alone." His jaw was slacked and his mouth slightly parted. _He looked heartbroken._ Her heart twanged at that thought, but her remorse was replaced quickly with anger burning as intense as a fire. _He made his bed by betraying her. Now he had to deal with the consequences._ With that, she stalked angrily into the living space, leaving behind a very hurt Wells.

The living space was just as she pictured - covered in luxurious items that she couldn't imagine the price for. Gold finishing was everywhere, as were crystal chandeliers and marble furnishings. What she didn't expect was to see two people sitting tensely at the dinning table.

Clarke stopped short in her tracks, causing Wells to walk straight into her. She would've bit a comment back at him, but she was too perplexed to think of anything witty.

"Ouch," he muttered as he rubbed the shoulder that bumped into her. She rolled her eyes at his behaviour. _He didn't walk into her that hard_. He peeked over her shoulder and tensed up. "Who are they?" His voice had dipped to a whisper so low that only she could hear.

Without answering him, Clarke squared her shoulders and walked towards the two adults sitting at the table. _She had to make a good impression._ If they were who she thought they were, they would be the difference between life and death in the arena.

The male had long brown hair and a beard. His eyes were focused on the pattern on the table cloth, but she couldn't mistake that look. He looked haunted and tormented by the ghosts of his past. He had an air of leadership and strength around him, almost begging for someone to challenge him. He looked strong. Determined. Wise.

The woman was a different story. While the man hid his pain well, she didn't. Her eyes matched his - haunted, tormented, and broken. Her head rested in her hands, her fingers gripping her messy hair tightly. Her clothing hung loosely on her small frame, making it seem like she was drowning in the fabric. Her lips were chapped and pressed in a thin line. While the man exuded strength, the woman seeped fear. She was scared and timid. She seemed vaguely familiar, almost like a ghost of a person she had seen before.

"Ah, you've arrived." The man's voice startled her, but she supressed the jolt that went through her body. The man stood up from his chair and made his way to Clarke and Wells. "Welcome, both of you, to the Tribute Train. And welcome to the Hunger Games." He paused a thoughtful look appearing on his face. "Even though the next few weeks will be hell, keep your heads up. Keep your spirits strong." The woman stood up behind him, adverting her eyes to the floor. "I'm Marcus Kane, one of your mentors for this year. I'll be in charge of preparing you for the Games, encouraging you, and, of course, in charge of gathering sponsors - which could make or break your time in the arena. This is Sienna. She would normally be the second mentor, assisting me in training you, but she's..." He paused, struggling to find the proper words. "She's unable to perform her duties."

 _That's_ where Clarke knew her from. While she didn't recognize him, she easily recognized her. She was a precious tribute - and a victor. Clarke remembered watching her Games and cheering her on. She was the most recent victor from District 6, only having won a handful of years ago.

While they didn't lack victors, they never had the most. And those that did survive the Games usually didn't survive to long out of them. Whether it be from an injury sustained in the arena, or something else, tributes died young in her district. There was a high turnover of mentors because of this.

"I'll be mentoring both of you." He must've seen the shock on both of their faces. "Don't worry, I've done this plenty of times before." He let out a small grimace at those words, almost like he had admitted something atrocious rather than trying to convince them of something. Clarke wasn't sure if he should be proud of the fact that he's done this multiple times before, yet he only had one victor to show for it. Were they already screwed? Did they get a terrible mentor?

"Now, enough chatting. We're going to get down to business." He gestured to the table, where they all moved towards. Marcus Kane was the first to take his seat, followed by Sienna. Clarke sat down cautiously, keeping a close eye on the other three people in the room. She felt almost like she was getting suffocated by the tacky décor, the tension and Wells surveying her.

"Marcus, I-" Wells began to speak, but he was cut off by the man lifting his hand.

"Call me Kane." He leaned back in his chair and took a deep sip of coffee. He looked entirely too calm for this situation.

"Er, right." Wells shuffled awkwardly. He seemed to feel so out of place. Clarke could imagine why - this would be his first time away from a life of luxury with his dad. This was his first time away from home. While she got used to surviving by herself while in lock-up, he didn't. This was entirely new to him. "I'm Wells Jaha."

"I know who you are." His eyes flicked to Clarke. His eyes felt like they bore right into her soul. "I know both if you." She felt uneasy under his stare, but matched it perfectly. He seemed too at home in the middle of the Games. He seemed to be too at ease when he knew at least one of the two children sitting before him was going to die. It was eerie, how calm and at home he seemed, especially when Clarke felt like she had been thrown off the deep end.

"How do you know us?" Wells was the first to speak again. Even though they had been apart for a year, he stole the words right out of her mouth.

"I watched the reaping." He stared at Wells like he had several heads. _Of course he knew who they were from the reaping._ Suddenly, she was glad that Wells beat her to asking that question. "I'm not sure if you know me, but I know you. Before either one of you gets too curious about who I am and starts poking around my past, I'll be straight up with you." Clarke felt a little better, as his face was starting to show a little bit of unease. _So he was human_. Him showing anything except comfort made her feel like she could trust him more.

"I won my Games over 20 years ago, when I was 16. I had been called in for the 24th Hunger Games – thank any deity listening that it wasn't the 25th, the first Quarter Quell." Clarke shivered at that. The first Quarter Quell was brutal. She was thankful that she didn't have to watch one before, and she would most likely never be alive to watch the second either. "I went in, planning to win. I left as the victor." He opened and closed his mouth a few times, almost like he was unsure what to say next. His eyes turned to Clarke's. They stared at each other for a long moment. This time, it was Clarke who broke eye contact first. There was something about him that seemed to shake her to her core.

Finally, he must've decided he wasn't going to say anything else, since he closed his mouth and cleared his throat. "I have helped train victors for twelve years. I was lucky enough to get a break when Tristan won, but with his passing, I was forced back into competition. Questions?"

Clarke had a million, but she didn't dare open her mouth.

"Good. If you have any questions about my Games, you can feel free to ask. Just as a warning though, I'm not a fan of talking about it." He grimaced again. She didn't have to question why he didn't like talking about his Games. _Any Games were brutal._ Children had to kill each other. They had to watch their allies die. They had to sacrifice their innocence and their childhood just to get home to their families. _She didn't think anybody would willingly talk about their Games._

"Now, lets focus on you two." He set his coffee cup down on the table. "To win these Games, you gotta keep your spirits strong. They like to try to break them and play you like puppets. They try to get in your head; they put you on display, force you to interact with the kids you'll have to fight against, put a number beside your face. Everything they do is to try to weed out those that aren't here to win. You have to want it, but you have to keep your mind clear.

"Why do you want to win? It shouldn't be for the glory – trust me, there isn't any glory in winning. You have to keep that in sight – always. Otherwise, you're going to get sucked up in the Games. _That's what they want_. They're going to use you like they've used every other kid that walked in there. They'll try to turn you - corrupt you - use you. If you know that everything that happens from here until the moment you walk out of the arena is a lie, you'll be fine.

"Don't lose sight of who you are. Don't lose hope. Don't lose strength. I won't lie, this will be tough. They'll do everything they can to break you - to make you stars of their show."

Clarke felt sick. She knew the Games were twisted, but with each word that he spoke, she felt more and more sick.

"I'll talk with each of your individually. See what your strengths are, what your weaknesses are, and what the ideal game plan is. They'll try to break you and change you, but if we stay one step ahead, they won't be able to." He lets those words sink in before he nodded. "Let's start with Wells."

Clarke was pointed in the direction of the room she would be staying at as they travelled the night. When she arrived in her room, she seen that her clothing for the evening had already been picked out. Instead of the grey dress she had been given when she left lock-up, she was provided with a light brown top with sleeves that hung past her wrists, and black pants. She sighed at the clothing – she hadn't worn anything except for the clothes she had been provided while she was in jail for the past year. While she had grown up with tight clothing like everyone in the district, she had grown accustomed to loose clothes.

She guessed that would have to change.

She slipped on the clothing before she explored her room any further. Placed in the centre of the room was a bed - it was not as extravagant as the rest of the train, but it was bigger than she had ever had while growing up. A small bathroom was attached to her room, which included a shower that she was _extremely_ looking forward to using. She didn't get too much time to shower while in lock-up, and never with hot water.

Other than the basics of a bed and a bathroom, there wasn't much else to her room. She was thankful - she wasn't sure how much gold furnishings she could handle. Her bed was a deep blue in colour - it reminded her of the colours she would use when she would paint the seas. It brought her a sense of peace that resonated through her bones.

There were several mirrors around the room, just like the rest of the train had. Looking at them made her feel lonely. Seeing only her reflection staring back at her reminded her that she was alone.

Again.

Clarke went in search of other clothing, but turned up empty. She had seen a few Avoxes before when the president of Panem had come to visit the Jaha family. She wondered if an Avox was at work on the train, bringing her new clothes whenever she desired.

Just the thought of an Avox sent chills up and down her spine. She felt the world tip sideways around her, making her stumble towards her bed.

She could've been made into an Avox.

That was the reality of her situation. When a citizen of Panem was arrested, they would be made into an Avox. Their tongues would get removed and they would be forced to become slaves.

For the last year, she wondered _why._ Why wasn't she made into an Avox? Without her tongue, she would never be able to talk about the secret she kept. She would have still been punished for her crimes.

She remembered the first month of being in lock-up; she had been waiting, day after day, for a Peacekeeper to come to her cell and drag her away. She was _expecting_ to become an Avox for her crimes. The fear consumed her for that first month, gnawing away at her soul.

 _But it never happened._

Still, the thought of that chilled her to the bone.

She leaned back on her bed, her eyes locked on the ceiling. Her gaze traced the intricate patterns carved onto the ceiling and took deep breaths. After awhile, her heart rate slowed and the fear subsided.

She wasn't an Avox. She wasn't in lock-up anymore. She was as free as possible. Even though she was racing towards the Capitol and towards her death, she didn't feel like she was chained down anymore. Even for a few days, she could be free.

 _Or at least pretend to be._

She wondered what Wells and Kane were talking about. What would be his strategy to the Games? After watching for many years, she had seen several strategies and acts - she had seen the strong act strong, the afraid act afraid, the strong act afraid, the afraid act strong. She had witness cocky tributes, scared tributes, humble tributes. She had seen people join the Career pack, form their own packs, find a single alliance, or go in completely alone.

Clarke couldn't begin to imagine Wells putting on an act for the Games. He wasn't one for hiding who he truly was. Their whole lives, he told the truth. At times, it was her favourite quality of his. Other times, it was dangerous and obnoxious. _Like when he told the truth about her father._

She shook herself and tried to push that thought aside. _Now was not the time._

Her mind drifted back to Wells, Kane and Sienna in the dinning area of the train. She couldn't guess what strategy he would come up with for the Games. Who would he become to survive?

A thought hit her. What strategy would she come up with?

Suddenly, she felt like she shouldn't have been wasting time wondering around her room earlier. She only had one night to come up with a full persona before she was at the Capitol – _that_ was when the real Games began. Her time on the train was just the beginning. Once she arrived in the Capitol, she would be watched and scrutinized every second.

Would she try to be herself? Clarke wasn't too sure that was the best idea, since she didn't really know who she was anymore. She had been in lock-up for so long that she wasn't even sure who she was. Was she still that kind girl that went in there?

All she knew was that she didn't feel like the same girl that went into lock-up. She knew that she never regretted her decision to stand by her father. She never regretted her choices that sent her to the Games. Even though she didn't really know who she was anymore, she knew that she would make that decision over and over again. She would do anything to keep her people safe – all of them.

A knock at the door started her. She jumped up from her bed, her heart racing. Kane stood in her doorway, his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, like he was wearing a mask to hide his true self. She assumed that being involved with the Games for as long as he had been would force you to hide who you truly were and how you truly felt.

"I finished up with Wells. You ready to discuss?" Clarke didn't feel ready, but she wasn't sure if she would ever be able to come up with a strategy on her own. She nodded her head and followed him out of her room.

He led her through the hallways, back to the living space. She couldn't help but admire the carpet on the floors throughout the whole train, or the wallpaper pasted around her. She felt like she was walking through a castle from before the Dark Days; it seemed too luxurious to be real.

As soon as they entered the cart, she noticed that Sienna has left already, leaving just her and Kane in the living space. He sat across from her at the dinning table and pushed a cup of water towards her. She pulled out the hardwood chair and sat down gingerly, surveying the area. There was so much to look at. It was definitely a huge change from her simple four-walled cell.

"Alright, Clarke. Tell me about yourself." His voice brought her attention back to him. What should've been a simple question stumped her. What could she say? Her identity had been wiped by her time in lock-up. She struggled to pinpoint exactly who she was. Before, it was easy. She was a daughter. She was a straight-A student. She spent her time studying and watching old reruns of sports with her father. She liked to walk with Wells around the city and spend her allowance at the bakery. _Her life was simple back then._

Not now.

She hadn't studied in a year, nor had she even seen a television, never mind watched a soccer match. She didn't get to see the sky or smell the flowers in a year, never mind explore their small district with Wells. She hadn't spoken to _him_ since he betrayed her. She hadn't spoken to anyone since that day – she hadn't had her simple life since then. Everything that made up her daily life had been stripped away in the past year.

Sensing her hesitation and confusion, Kane pressed further. "I know you're a criminal, although they never said the exact reason why you were in that cell. They told me to keep my eye on you." Clarke nodded her head slowly. Her hands felt clammy as she remembered the clear threats from the Peacekeeper earlier that day. _You speak, you die._ She couldn't tell Kane the truth about her imprisonment even if she wanted to. "They also told me that you're a liar." Clarke fought the urge to roll her eyes. _Of course they would say that._ They wouldn't want anyone to believe her, even if she broke the rules and told him the Capitol's secret. "Why were you there? Why were you arrested?" The corners of her lips tugged downwards.

"I thought they told you I'm a liar." She decided to keep her answer as vague as possible. _You speak, you die._ She didn't want to discuss the subject. _She didn't want to risk slipping up and saying something she shouldn't. She didn't want her mother to suffer the consequences._ And, even though she just met him, she didn't want Kane to die for knowing the secret either. _She didn't want anyone to die._ Kane shrugged.

"Call me curious." He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes bore into hers. She was sure he was trying to be warm and inviting, but it felt like he was staring into her soul. She adverted her eyes to the piece of art behind him. _She felt peace seep into her bones._ Her shoulders visibly relaxed.

"I committed a crime." Her eyes snapped back to his. _Believe me. I'm not lying._ She tried her hardest to look like she believed the words she said, even though they felt like poison on her tongue. "They imprisoned me for it. Simple as that." She searched his eyes, hoping she would see belief in them. _She didn't._ In one final attempt, she said, "I thought they told you I'm a compulsive liar. Why would you believe me anyways?" Kane arched his eyebrow.

"I guess I don't always believe what I'm told. Occupational hazard." He sucked air through his teeth. She didn't waver in her stare at him. She had to look confident with her words, otherwise he wouldn't believe her. _I'm telling the truth,_ she willed her eyes to say. Somehow, she didn't feel like she was doing a good job at lying. "You were put in isolation for a year following your father's very unfortunate death." Her heart stopped.

"And?" Her words came out with more venom than she intended.

"And nothing." He shrugged and leaned back into his chair. He pulled at the cuffs of his shirt. "Just curious as to why go through all that trouble with you. I couldn't imagine _you_ hurting anyone – I usually am a good judge of people – and never mind committing a crime so gruesome that they put you in isolation for a whole year. Which makes me wonder why you weren't made into an Avox?" Clarke pressed her lips tightly together. She had been asking herself that question for the last year. That fear had consumed her for so long.

"I don't know." This time, she wasn't lying. _She truly had no freaking idea why she was only imprisoned._ Kane stared at her for a long moment before letting out a sigh.

"Okay." She supressed a smirk playing at her lips. _At least one thing was going her way._ "I still want to get to know you, Clarke. I'll be representing you for the next few weeks – I'll need to know who you are. Tell me other things. About yourself. Your family. Your talents. Your fallouts." Clarke took the cup of water in her hands and shrugged.

"I'm an only child. My mom is a doctor, my dad was an engineer. You already know that he died last year." _Murdered, actually._ "I spent time after that in prison for a crime I committed. Before that, we used to live in the upper district."

"With Wells." His stare was pointed as he spoke. Clarke felt like he was boring into her once again, searching for a reaction from her. She held her face emotionless, even though hearing his name sent a ripple of frustration and resentment through her.

"With Wells," she confirmed, her voice even. He looked at her pointedly, like he was begging for her to continue. "He and I grew up together. Our families were friends before we were even born." Her heart hurt as she spoke about what they used to be. _Back when both of their lives were more simple._ She never had to question his motives or his morals. Back when they were kids, he was a _good and pure person._ He was the best friend that she always needed, and a brother to her. He was always there for her, in every waking moment. It hurt to think about how they used to click together. _It hurt to think about how different it was now._ They lost so much.

"So, you're willing to be allies with Wells?" Clarke nearly choked on her laughter. She couldn't imagine spending more time with him than absolutely necessary. _He ruined her life. He killed her father. He get her arrested._

"No." She didn't hesitate with her answer. "No, I don't want to be anywhere near him. I don't trust him. Not anymore." She clamped her mouth shut, already afraid she said too much. Kane simply nodded, clearly not hit with the implications of her words.

"He expressed interest in being allies with you, but he warned me that would be your response." Still, he didn't seem too interested to find out the reason between their bad blood. "Tell me more about your family." Kane had brushed off her heated response completely.

"There's nothing much to say." In reality, that statement was false. There was plenty to say about her family; she just didn't want to accidentally say something to endanger her mother or Kane. "My mom is a doctor – I've always wanted to be just like her," she added wistfully. "She's the best in the district, or so people say. She's mainly been responsible for front line patient treatment, but she's also helped develop procedures used around Panem." Kane smiled at that. "My dad was a top engineer, designing new and improved transportation methods. He always felt that if they weren't being green, they weren't doing their jobs right. He tried his best to be sustainable." Clarke shrugged. "That's it. That's my family."

"And what do you like to do in your free time?" She thought back to her life before prison. She liked to spend time at school and studying. She worked with her mother at the clinics and read over as much of her work as possible. She would sit under the trees in the park with Wells in the summer, or beside the fireplace in the winter. In the last year, she had lost all of that. _She was different now._

"I studied the basics of medicine under my mother, so I guess a talent of mine would include first-aid. I am not pro by any means, but I know enough to stay alive." She quickly corrected herself. "Like I said, I wanted to be just like my mom – this meant taking any of my free time to study under her. She would bring be on herb gatherings, and allow me to sit in on certain procedures." She thought for a bit. "I loved art. Painting, drawing – anything that allowed me to put images down on the page. Although, that was more of a hobby than a career." She spent most of her time in prison painting and drawing with whatever she could find. There were more than a few drawings plastered around the walls of her cell.

"Any downfalls I should know about?"

 _'_ _I'm carrying a huge secret that they will kill me for.'_

 _'_ _The Capitol wants me dead.'_

 _'_ _I haven't interacted with people for a year.'_

 _'_ _My father was murdered.'_

 _'_ _I want the Capitol to pay for their failures. I wanted Panem to know the truth.'_

 _'_ _I want to go back home, but I don't think it is possible.'_

 _'_ _My district partner betrayed me. He helped kill my dad.'_

She wet her lips and tried to think of an answer that wouldn't result in their deaths.

"My mother says I protect people to a fault. I put them before I put myself." She considered her words thoroughly before speaking. "And it's true. When I act, I don't care about what will happen to me. _I only care about the people I love._ I would die protecting them." She wet her lips again. "I don't see this as a downfall though. Who are we without humanity?" Kane smiled widely at that. He didn't say anything for a long moment.

"You are someone who is willing to die for her people. You'd rather die than watch others die. You would give up anything for the safety of those that are your own. Am I right?" Clarke didn't wan to admit just how right he was. Instead, she shrugged. "You strike me as a leader, Clarke. I can work with that." He was nodding vigorously. "It'll attract a lot of allies and sponsors if we do this right." He got up from his chair and began pacing around the room, running his hands through his beard. Clarke watched him silently. "We need a strategy." He cracked his eye open and glanced at her. "Got any ideas?"

"None."

"Didn't think so. Most people don't – and if they do, they don't know how to play the Game properly." He began pacing again. Clarke was amazed; he seemed to have the exact layout of the train car memorized. He didn't bump into a single piece of furniture as he walked around. He turned to her again. "I think I have something for you. A plan." She nodded eagerly and jumped up from her seat to join him.

"Good, because I don't know where to start."

"Let's start with you." He turned completely towards her. "I see you really focusing on your characteristics that would make you loveable by sponsors." She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. _What the hell did that mean anyways._ "We need to highlight your leadership abilities. You'll be a leader in these Games, in whatever way you think would work best." He was talking quickly, making it hard for Clarke to keep up. "Always walk with confidence. Don't be cocky – while sponsors love that, your competitors will hate it and you'll be made a target. Be someone that you would imagine anyone could walk up to talk with – someone that is willing to give their all just for their safety. _For everyone's safety._ " _That won't be hard._ Clarke already had given her all for her people. She spent the last year of her life in prison for all of Panem. "The name of the game for you will be in allies. How do you feel about them?"

"They're good." She honestly didn't have an opinion on them. She had seen many Games where having allies made the victories possible. She had also seen many Games where allies were the downfall.

"Good. Good." He was talking more to himself now. "Let's try to get you a bunch of them. We'll review the reaping tapes once we get them sent to us tomorrow – right before we arrive. You can pick out a few that you think will make a good team and we'll work on getting a pack." He turned to her again, giving her his full attention. "You don't want to pick one that will clash with you or your constructed persona – no leaders. Or, if they are leaders, make sure they can be leaders in their own way." Clarke didn't really understand, but she nodded anyways. "We can discuss picking them out later. The point is, you'll want to gather a pack to rival the Careers. They always come as a team and hit hard – if you have a team to rival theirs, they shouldn't be as big of a threat. Understood?"

"Yeah. Sure." _She didn't know how having a large group of allies could help her win the Games, but she went with it._ He knew best after all.

"Good. Work towards gathering allies that you'll need. When sponsors see you as a leader of a pack to rival the careers, you'll get more sponsorship. More sponsorship means better chance that you'll win. Sponsors love cheering for the underdogs – but only _if_ they're likely to win."

"Got it." She really didn't.

"Right. Be a leader. Act confident. Don't get cocky. Stay grounded. Gather as many allies that you can trust as possible. I'll play up your want to save people and your selflessness to drive in sponsors. Questions?"

 _She had a million._

"No."

"Good." He sat back down in his chair, his hand running through his hair. "Go rest up. This next week will suck the energy out of you faster than you've ever had." She felt the truth of his words inside of her already. While she hadn't done anything for the Games yet, she felt exhausted. "Tomorrow, we'll review the tapes of the other reapings."

Her heart dropped. She would have to watch videos of her competitors – people she would have to fight against to survive in the coming weeks. She would have to watch them during their most vulnerable moments – being ripped away from their homes and their families. She would have to watch young children be carried off to the Games. _To their deaths._

Another thought occurred to her.

"We?" She hoped she meant just her and Kane, but she had a terrible suspicion that Wells would be there too.

"You, Wells and I." Seeing Clarke's expression falter, he leaned in closer to her. His voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't need to discuss things with him if you don't want to. This is your Games – play them like you want. _Especially_ if you don't trust him." He leaned back and surveyed her expression. "Keep those that you trust in your inner circle. Remember, this is the Hunger Games. There can only be one victor." With those heavy words, he stood up from the table. "Get some rest, Clarke. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

 **A/N:** ** _still_** **no Bellamy… I know! I know a bunch of you are waiting to meet him (same here – I can't wait to introduce him), but I feel like it's really important to set the stage for the Games. The actual time in the arena is a** ** _huge_** **part of this story, so these background events will factor into that. I promise, he'll be introduced next chapter. Can't wait! (Thanks to everyone for being so patient!)**

 **Kane is the male mentor for District 6 and Sienna is the female mentor for District 6. I've got to be honest here… I haven't read The Hunger Games books for a long time, so I couldn't remember if there's one male mentor and one female mentor for each district, or if there is only one mentor. For the purposes of this fic, there will be the two of them. As Kane mentioned, he will be the main mentor throughout.**

 **Also, Sienna is a character from The 100! She is the mother that Jaha meets in the dead zone at the start of season 2. The choice for her character being in this position is based on the fact she was very fierce and knew exactly what she wanted. She felt like a fighter to me and I felt like she fit this position well.**

 **Thanks for reading, as always. I truly appreciate any reviews, favourites, and follows that you all leave. They make my day! A huge thank you to those that have already done so. I'm super behind in replying, but please know I see you and I absolutely am so thankful for the time you give to leave your thoughts.**

 **See you this Tuesday!**


	4. Chapter 4: Masks Made of Stone

**A/N: Once again, this chapter is a little later than the 8/7c I planned to do. Sorry about that! I hope the length of this chapter makes up for it… It's almost 7500 words!**

 **Warnings: minor swearing and discussing dark topics (death, fighting in the arena, etc.)**

 **I've been looking forward to publishing this chapter for a long time! I hope you enjoy reading it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Masks Made of Stone**

* * *

That morning, Clarke woke up with a pit of dread in her stomach. Even with sleep still clogging her mind, she felt sick to her stomach. A chill swept over her and her muscles were tensed. She knew that she would be arriving in the Capitol today. _No amount of sleep could make her forget that._ She would have to become someone who she wasn't – she would have to play their Game.

She remembered her conversation with Kane yesterday clearly. Clarke doubted she would ever forget her first day as a tribute.

She was thankful that she wouldn't have to make herself into a completely different person – she would still be able to hold onto certain aspects of herself. He told her to be a leader and to be welcoming to everyone. While she didn't exactly see herself as a leader, she could see herself welcoming anyone with open arms. It was true that she was willing to give her life if it meant a better life for everyone in Panem. She already gave up everything for her fellow citizens. She had always been willing to give herself for the sake of humanity – for the sake of her people. She had done it before, and she would do it over again.

Kane told her to focus on that trait; to become the leader that he seen in her. She never considered herself a leader – all she ever wanted was what was best for her district. Still, Clarke felt like she could do what he told her to do.

Be confident, not cocky. Be strong, but not arrogant. Be warm and inviting, but invoke nervousness in those around her. She was meant to lead the pack that would rival the Careers. Yesterday, it seemed like an easier task than that morning. How would she ever be able to lead a group of terrified teenagers against some that have trained their whole lives to compete in the Games?

She didn't know how to do what Kane expected her to. He wanted her to find multiple tributes, befriend them, lead them into the arena, and… survive? She didn't know the first thing about these people that she was going into the arena with. The only thing she did know was _they all wanted to survive._ How could they band together if only one of them could survive?

She didn't know. Would desperate teenagers be able to put aside their instincts long enough to help each other? They all knew only one of them could win. Could she even trust any tribute while in the arena? How would she know if they were telling the truth about wanting to be in an alliance, or if they were just looking for an easy way to kill her?

Somehow, she didn't think it would matter. If she seen a tribute dying in the forest, she wouldn't leave them alone to die. She would try to help them, no matter the cost to herself. Why did she deserve more of a chance at life than any other child in the Games? Why wouldn't she do everything in her power to help others? She knew, she would end up trusting tributes too easily.

She was reminded of the time at school, when she was befriended by the nastiest girl in the class. Wells warned her that she only meant trouble – she had a habit of spreading rumors about her friends and gossiping behind their backs – but Clarke insisted that she had changed. She thought that if she could change, so could that girl. _She should be given a chance._

She was wrong. The girl didn't change.

Sometimes, she was too trusting. She tried to see the best in every person and every situation. _Not everyone has as good of a heart and intentions as you do,_ her mother told her later that night.

Still, she was trusting to a fault. If she seen any tribute in need, she wouldn't hesitate. _That might very well be her fatal flaw._

She pushed her unease aside. Nobody said the Games would be easy. In fact, people had said the Games were nearly impossible to compete in, never mind win. Tributes lost themselves _and their humanities_ in the Games. That's what she was terrified about. Losing who she was.

Clarke hoped that she wouldn't lose her humanity. She always prided herself on her care for her people – she refused to lose that aspect of herself. Her mother told her to not protect others during the Games – to put herself first. Yet, she knew that she wouldn't be able to do this. She cared too much.

There was a sharp knock on the door, but she didn't bother to turn to the doorway.

"We just received the tapes from the reapings across Panem. Breakfast is on the table. We're starting in five minutes," Kane told her from the other side of the door. She called out a response, but didn't untangle her feet from the feathered duvet. She waited until she could no longer hear Kane's boots on the carpet before she pushed herself out of bed.

Her muscles ached and her eyes were heavy. While she had climbed into bed early, she hadn't been able to sleep. She had been up majority of the night, millions of questions plaguing her mind.

 _Who would she pick as allies?_

 _What if she wasn't a good leader?_

 _What if she couldn't attract sponsors?_

 _Would she be able to learn how to fight in combat before the end of the week?_

 _What would the arena look like?_

 _Will she lose her humanity while competing?_

Even though those thoughts still haunted her mind, Clarke tried to push them to the side. There wasn't much she could do but try, at this point.

Try to find allies she could trust. Try to be a good leader and make responsible choices – for both her team and herself. Try her best to appeal to the crowds and to the sponsors. Try her best to learn how to fight in combat – or at least use any weapon available. Try to keep true to herself.

 _Try, try, try._

Even though she felt that the odds were stacked against her, she had to try. She wouldn't be going into these Games just for herself anymore. If Kane wanted her to play leader, that meant she would be partially responsible for her allies. _She had to try. For them. Even if she felt like it was impossible for her to win, that didn't mean she couldn't try._

Once again, the clothes for the day had been laid out at the chest at the end of her bed. It was another shirt – this time short sleeved and dark blue. Once again, it was paired with a pair of black pants. She quickly slipped on her outfit, took a few steadying breaths, and went to meet her district team for breakfast.

Wells was already at the table, discussing something with Kane. Both of them had small smiles on their faces, almost like they were sharing a simple meal between friends – not sharing a meal only days before having to fight to the death. The two of them were both at ease. She felt even more tense just looking at them. _How could they be so calm? They were days away from being thrown into an arena to die for entertainment._

"Morning," she greeted as she settled into her chair beside Wells. She glanced across the table, where an empty chair sat. Their female mentor was missing from their meeting. "Where's Sienna?"

"She's elected to stay in her room until we arrive at the Capitol." Seeing Clarke's face, he continued, "she'll be okay. This time of year just makes her upset." Clarke didn't press for more details. She knew that Kane had been Sienna's mentor for her Games. While she had won, she had lost her humanity in the process. Her Games were tragic and nearly impossible to watch from the brutality of it all. Clarke guessed that there were things that one truly could never forgive themselves for.

"Kane and I were just talking about Unity Days back at home," Wells said. Unity Days was a day celebrated throughout all of the districts – a celebration encouraged by the Capitol to highlight the joys of coming together under Panem. While Clarke never found the beauty in celebrating a day that honours a government as cruel as theirs, she couldn't help but smile at the memories of that day. She had a few fond memories of the celebrations from when she was younger. Wells seemed to as well, if she was basing anything off his grin. "Remember when you accidentally jumped off of the trampoline and broke your arm?"

"Yeah, I do." She felt a smile growing on her face from her amusement, but she pushed it away. This was not the time for reminiscing with the boy who killed her father. _He ruined everything._ Her face hardened and she turned to Kane. "You said the reaping tapes came in?" Kane nodded his head and took one more scoop of eggs before answering.

"They did. I figured we could watch them all together – try to get a handle on who was reaped before we get to the Capitol. You will be seeing them all tonight for the tribute parade anyways. This'll maybe give you an advantage – even a small one."

Clarke suddenly felt nervous. She had been on the train with people she had been familiar with, but, in a few short hours, she would be staying amongst people that would be trying to kill her. She would be training and living with other teenagers that were as hungry for survival as she was. _They were desperate, and desperate people were unpredictable._

"Yeah, I'm all for it. Start with District 12 and work our way up?" Wells spoke up before Clarke could. At Clarke's questioning look, he explained himself, "we already know the Careers will form a pack. I want to see what other prospects there are for allies." Kane tapped his fork against his chin and agreed with Wells' suggestion.

As soon as they were done their breakfast, they moved towards the television across the room. Clarke sat down in the chair furthest away from where Wells was sitting and curled her legs under her body. She prepared herself for the chilling videos she would have to watch.

She would be seeing videos of the people she was either going to have to kill, be killed by, or watch get killed. _Only one out of the twenty-four of them could survive._ Most of the tributes were reaped, meaning they had no idea they were headed to the Games. She would have to watch twenty-two families call out in sadness. She would have to watch twenty-two children come to the realization that their deepest nightmare has come true – that they were chosen to die. She would have to watch the pain and suffering of so many.

 _She wasn't sure if she could handle it._

But she didn't have a choice. Kane slid in the first tape. _District 12._

District 12's reaping had been heartbreaking. The girl that had been reaped – Emori – was 15 years old. What made her reaping worse was the fact that the cameras focused on her obviously upset little brother in the crowd. The young boy sobbed as his older sister made her way to the stage. Nobody around him moved and Clarke wondered if he had any friends to comfort him. _The thought made her ill._

The male tribute from District 12 looked more intimidating, but not by much – Atom was 17 years old, just like her. The cameras didn't find any family of his in the crowd of children, but they focused on his mother. It was clear that she was holding back tears as she watched her son climb the steps towards his death.

District 11 had more tearful goodbyes. The female reaped – Harper – had stayed strong as she walked towards the stage, but Clarke could see her fingers trembling. Still, she was determined and fierce looking. She put on a brave show despite her obvious fear and pain. The boy – Nathan – looked strong as well, but his eyes never left those of his tearful father in the crowd. They were both 16. _Too young,_ but weren't they all?

The female from District 10 was so small, that Clarke wasn't too sure if she was actually 15 years old. Fox made her way up to the stage, fear evident in her eyes. Her body shook hard as she stood on stage beside their escort. She looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears and throwing up at the same time.

In stark contrast, the male District 10 tribute, Dax, was built large and looked beyond frightening to her. If she didn't know any better, she would have guessed that he was older than 18. He had death in his eyes and a sneer on his lips. The announcers were excited over him. _Finally, an outlier district would have a chance at victory,_ one of them said. They were already betting good odds on him. It made her skin crawl. _He had only been a tribute for a minute, and they were already judging and analyzing him._ It made her curious to know what was said about her own reaping. She burned that thought immediately.

District 9 had two strong tributes – both showed no signs of fear. In fact, Zoe looked more frustrated than upset. She was 15, but she looked just as terrifying as Dax did and just as strong as Harper. The male tribute was named Illian and had a bored expression on his face. He looked like he was skilled in fighting, or he was no stranger to hard work. She could see callouses on his hands from repetitive use, and she noted the fierce look in his eye. He looked like he was filled with rage – she made a mental note to steer clear of him.

Both tributes from District 9 seemed to hold the air that they couldn't care that they were just chosen as sacrifices. _They both just wanted it over_. Once again, the announcers mentioned that the two tributes from District 9 gave the outer districts a chance for a victor.

District 8's tributes immediately caught her attention. Charlotte was the youngest tribute so far, coming in at age 12. She was small and seemed to have been swallowed by the Games already, only seconds after her name was pulled from the glass ball. While she stood on stage, Clarke could see her small frame shaking from fear, and tears glisten down her cheeks. Her bottom lip trembled as she held back sobs, but her chin still was held high. _She was terrified, but she still tried to be strong._ There was something about her that spoke to Clarke. She seemed so lost and too innocent to be heading to the Games. She could sense a fighter in her – the young girl wasn't going to give up easily.

Lincoln, the male from District 8, was another story all together. While his eyes and demeanour looked soft and strong at the same time, Clarke felt like he was already a skilled fighter. She could tell that his nose had been broken multiple times before and he had scars along his face – from fights, she assumed. He looked both absolutely terrifying, but also slightly inviting at the same time.

District 7's Maya looked like she was ready to take on the challenge, even if she didn't want to. She looked like she was going to throw up at any second, but she still stood tall. Her district partner, John, looked annoyed as he climbed the stage. While he was acting moody and annoyed, Clarke felt like it was all just an act. Underneath it, she sensed he was lost and unsure of what to do.

District 5 peaked her interest. The female – Echo – looked like a warrior. If she didn't know any better, she would have guessed that she was from a Career district. Her eyes were sharp and her face was set in stone. She looked like she was wearing a mask, just like the Peacekeepers that she was surrounded with for the past year. She was terrifying. _Talk about a fantastic year for tributes,_ one of the announcers said as she walked up.

The male from District 5 also interested Clarke, and not just because he was the second John of the reapings. While John Mbege from District 7 was absorbed in acting annoyed, John Murphy from District 5 was _truly_ annoyed. John Murphy had a scowl on his face that dared anybody to talk to him. Even as he stood on the stage in front of his whole district, he did not seem interested or scared. He looked annoyed and _done_. Even though he looked distant, there was something that caught her eye. He seemed to not be afraid to truly show who he was and what he was thinking about. _She could do with a little truth in the Games._

District 4 – the first Career district that they had watched the reapings from – was just as expected. Luna and Cage had volunteered to go in place of the two that had been randomly selected. Luna's wild hair seemed to rival the wild look in Cage's eye. Both looked strong and built for combat. Luna carried herself with a peace that she couldn't imagine having while walking towards a battle, and Cage carried himself with such confidence that she was immediately turned off. Whatever she did, she hoped to avoid those two.

Out of all of the districts, District 3 seemed to hold the most promise. Raven and Monty were the tributes from this district, and Clarke could feel herself forming an immediate connection to them. Raven looked fierce standing on stage, with a small smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth. Even though she looked like she had been preparing for the Games for years, she radiated a warmth that Clarke instantly picked up on. Monty held that same warmth – his eyes begged for her to trust him. Both shared a glance as they stood on the stage. Clarke got a distinct feeling that the two already knew each other – maybe from school? She made a mental note to look more into these two. So far, they seemed like the most trustworthy and most useful tributes out of the whole group.

District 2 was another Career district – the fiercest and most notorious, if she wasn't mistaken. District 2 was known for producing Peacekeepers and training all of their soldiers. They were also known for being the best at playing the Games; they had produced more tributes than all of the outer districts combined. They were bloodthirsty, terrifying and monsters. _Yet, she felt the most drawn to those tributes._

Octavia Blake had volunteered to be the female tribute of District 2. As she walked on stage, Clarke instantly felt a vibe with her that she hadn't felt before. She looked cool and confident, yet not cocky like Cage had seemed. She seemed sure of herself, yet willing to compromise. Her face was set in stone, refusing to give off any emotions, but Clarke could still feel a warmth in her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it seemed like she _knew_ that she was going to win the Games, but she wasn't going to spoil the fun of anyone else. Clarke was both terrified and intrigued by her.

What surprised her the most out of District 2 was the male tribute.

Before the escort could even read out the name of the male tribute reaped, the male tribute was surging forward from the front of the crowd. His eyes were set on the stage – on Octavia specifically – as he volunteered to be the tribute. His eyes were on fire and his jaw was twitching. _He looked wild, almost like a father protecting their young._ While Octavia had radiated the smallest bit of warmth, Bellamy sucked it dry out of the room. _He left a trail of darkness whoever he walked._ As soon as he spoke his name, Clarke felt her heart sink.

 _Bellamy Blake._ He was Octavia Blake's brother. _She was right. He was like a father protecting their young._ He was an older brother protecting his sister. It made her feel dizzy and sick at the same time; she wasn't too sure if she wanted to puke or pass out. _That poor family,_ losing both children at once.

She couldn't take her eyes off of the sibling duo. Both looked strong and confident, like they had been preparing for that moment for their whole lives. _They probably had been preparing for their reaping day for years_. They looked like they could take out any opponent with a simple glance of their eyes. _They stoke fear and darkness wherever they looked._ She was drawn to them, not only for the strength that they radiated, but for the strength that Bellamy had demonstrated.

As Bellamy climbed onto the stage, he shared a pained look with his sister. No, _he_ didn't look pained. In fact, he looked as calm as Octavia had when she volunteered. _It wasn't him that looked pained. It was herself._ She felt a flash of pain across her heart and through to the palms of her hands. _They were family. Both of them couldn't survive._ Clarke couldn't read exactly what Bellamy was trying to convey with his pointed look, but it was obvious that Octavia did. She nodded her head and let a tiny smile spread across her face.

Clarke was drawn to him in an instant. Not because of his looks – although she would admit, he was striking – but because he was so unwavering with volunteering, even though his sister stood beside him. She wasn't too sure why he had volunteered for the Games, especially when his sister was competing. He must've known that one of them would have to die for the other to survive – they both weren't walking out of that arena alive. Did Bellamy volunteer just to ensure the survival of his sister?

Clarke doubted it. Who would be as selfless as that – to give up their own life, just for their sister? _He was a Career._ From District 2, nonetheless. _He was ruthless, just like the others._ He was there to win, just like all the other kids.

Even after Bellamy and Octavia had left the screen, Clarke couldn't get the Blake siblings out of her mind. She couldn't help but think about how they looked at each other, their emotions hidden behind masks, but so confident with each other. The male – Bellamy – looked ready to charge into battle.

 _But what was his motivation? Why would he volunteer if he knew he had to fight his sister?_

As Kane changed the tape to the next one, she tired to push the Blakes out of her mind. _They were Careers._ Whatever their motivations were for volunteering for the same Games, it wasn't her concern.

District 1's tributes were terrifying. They both looked like they had been training their whole lives for the opportunity to represent their district in the Games. Both had volunteered in place of the children that had been reaped – no surprise to her. Their district, along with all other Career districts, had been known to already have the volunteers pre-selected for the Games, ensuring the best would be going to compete.

As soon as Panem's anthem finished playing on the last tape, Kane shut off the recordings of the reapings. He turned to face both of them, a grim expression on his face.

"A lot to take in. There are twenty-four of you, each with different skills and each with a different strategy." Clarke nodded her head numbly. Her mind was spinning, trying to take it all in. "Take the hour to think about who you'd like as an ally. We'll discuss individually - pros and cons of each, and how they fit into your strategy. We'll work on a plan on how to court them. Work for you?" There was a moment of complete silence between the three of them. Suddenly, without responding, Wells got out of his chair and made his way towards the back of the train.

Clarke imagined that Wells felt exactly like her - overwhelmed and lost on where to start. That was something they always had in common; they liked to analyze, plan and think, which was nearly impossible to do in the Games. _There were so many aspects that had to be taken into consideration._

Would these tributes want to be allies with her? What skills could they offer that could help their survival? Were they trustworthy? _Was anyone trustworthy?_ Would they be good in a group setting or would they only bring conflict and drama? Would they work well with other allies she had already gathered or would they clash, like Kane warned her about? Would they attract sponsors?

Clarke put her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes tightly. Kane had mentioned numerous times over the past day how important allies were. They had to pick the best ones for them, and start courting them before anyone else scooped them up. _This decision could impact the rest of the Games for her._

She couldn't shake the feeling of several tributes - some of them seemed to burn their way into her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about them.

Like little Charlotte from District 8. Clarke could sense the will and the strength inside of her, but she couldn't deny how terrified and lost the little girl looked. _She looked broken._ She was just a child, thrust into the Games. She would have to fend for herself. _She wouldn't survive on her own._ While she didn't offer any special skills as far as she could see, she was a girl needing help.

The other tribute from District 8 – Lincoln – also caught her attention. He looked like he was skilled with fighting, thanks to his crooked nose and his callused hands. Lincoln looked like he was ready to go to the arena already; he looked fierce and frightening. _But those eyes –_ they seemed to tell a different story. They said that the eyes led straight to the soul. She liked to believe that was true, and seeing his eyes brought her a feeling of warmth and strength.

John from District 5. _John Murphy,_ that was, not John Mbege. His stone cold attitude left no room for questioning, but she could see the way he carried himself. He held such eagerness yet such restraint. He wasn't afraid to show his sustain with the Games. It was clear that he didn't care about playing the Game to please to people – he only cared about survival.

Then there was Raven and Monty from District 3. They both held a warmth that Clarke hadn't noticed in any other tributes. Raven looked proud and confident, but not overly so. Her stance told Clarke that she was not to be reckoned with, because she had more than what met the eye. Monty held that same warmth, but he wasn't as proud as Raven. Still, he held a sense of calm that made Clarke think that he had more than what met the eye. They were obviously friends from their district, which made Clarke question if they would already be allies. Would they want to add her to their alliance, if that was the case? She hoped so. Out of all tributes, she was the most sure about them.

Finally, the Blake siblings. They both showed strength that she had never seen before – at least, she hadn't taken note of it before. It wasn't like the brutal strength that Cage – the male from District 4 – seemed to possess; it was more commanding than that. They held themselves like they were royalty – shoulder back, chin out, arms relaxed, eyes narrowed. It was the only way to put it. _They reminded her of warriors._

They looked cold, but not like other competitors that she had seen. While Cage had looked cold and distant – ready to pounce and kill at any instant – the Blakes looked calculated. They looked reserved, like they were judging and analyzing every movement you made. The didn't look as cold as the District 1 tributes – rather, they looked like they were begging to be challenged, not just submitted to. _They wanted a fight. They wanted to prove themselves._

She had a tough time putting her finger on the characteristics of the Blakes. The best she could describe them as was prideful and reserved.

Regardless of what they looked like, _she didn't trust them._ They were from District 2 – they had been born into a life filled with training and perfecting the skills used in the Games. They must've been top of their academy, otherwise they would have never been allowed to volunteer.

That was how things worked with the Careers; if you were the top of your class, you were going to the Games, regardless of who was reaped and who wanted to go. The academies controlled who went to the Games each year, ensuring they had the best chance to win. She had heard that representing your district was a huge honor, one that many kids strived for.

Clarke couldn't imagine living life like that. She couldn't imagine training to fight for her whole life. She couldn't imagine going to school to study sword fighting or knife throwing. _She couldn't imagine training since childhood to kill other children._ The thought repulsed her. She couldn't imagine working towards participating in the Games. Her life had been the exact opposite; filled with art, music, medicine, academics, and training to save lives.

 _Not take them_.

Careers were cold and deadly – _all of them, including the siblings_. The Blakes held themselves with pride and confidence – probably because they believed they could win the Games easily. They had trained their whole lives for this moment, after all. To them, it was just a Game; it was all just for fun.

Clarke promised herself – no matter how inviting they looked and how interested she was in the siblings, she would not allow herself to be sucked into their play. This was all a Game. Everything was a lie with them, according to Kane. The Careers couldn't be trusted.

Still, she couldn't pull her mind away from the Blakes.

 _She couldn't pull her mind away from Bellamy._

Why would he volunteer when his sister was already competing? Why would he go in with family, knowing only one of them will come out? Why would he subject himself to that kind of pain? _Did he not care he would have to watch his sister die? Did he not care that he might have to kill his sister so he could win?_

Or did he have a different plan? Did he volunteer specifically because his sister was in the Games? She still didn't understand why; only one of them could survive. If he truly did volunteer for his sister, that meant he was willing to sacrifice himself for her. _He was willing to die so she could live._

She was reminded of herself, in a way. Why would she want to tell the world about District 13 when she knew that she wouldn't survive past that? It was for her people. It was the right thing to do, no question about it. She was so willing to sacrifice her life so the truth could get out _and so was her dad._

She tried to push the Blake siblings out of her head. _They weren't her concern._ It wasn't hard to forget about them – her mind was spinning, trying to keep up with the events of the last two days.

Who did she want as an ally?

The easier question was who she _didn't_ want as an ally. She didn't want to touch the Career pack - the two from District 1 looked too eager to compete, the Blakes from District 2 were confusing, and the pair from District 4 felt dangerous.

She felt like it would be easiest to align herself with someone if she resonated with them. She didn't just want to become allies because it was convenient. She truly wanted to have an alliance with people she could trust and people that she liked. _Raven, Monty and Lincoln._ The names came to her mind instantly. _She wanted them._

She also had no doubt in her mind about Charlotte. She was so small and innocent – it was unfair to have her compete against giants like Cage. She felt like it would be irresponsible if she didn't try to get Charlotte as an ally, if she didn't try to protect her for as long as she could. _She was just a child._ Clarke felt an odd sense of responsibility towards the child.

Now John Murphy was a different challenge all together. While she understood him, she wasn't sure if he would make the best ally. He seemed unpredictable – could she really trust him? She wasn't too sure. He seemed cold, distant, and hard to swallow. She left him off of her list. She would have to get to know him before she asked him anything.

Raven, Monty, Lincoln, Charlotte and John Murphy. Those were the people she wanted to keep her eye on. They all seemed promising as people and as tributes. They each had a compelling quality about them; something that she needed if she was going to have to spend her final weeks with them.

But before she could fully commit to the idea of making an alliance with them, she wanted to see them in person. She wanted to interact with them and to see exactly who they were… or, at least, who they were _pretending_ to be.

Kane sat down on the couch next to Clarke and offered her a plate of bacon. She smiled weakly and took the food. Even though her mind was swimming and she felt overwhelmed by the decisions she had to make, she couldn't keep ignoring the constant rumble in her stomach.

"Made any decisions yet?" His voice was as light as he could make it, but she could still hear the undertones of stress. He was just as worried as she was. Clarke sighed and rubbed her face.

"I have an idea, but it's hard. Do you know how hard this is!?" Kane laughed lightly at her small complaints.

"Believe it or not, but I remember very clearly what it felt like to be in the Games… To feel so helpless and lost." He weighed his words carefully. "I just hope my guidance is helping you, not making the experience more difficult."

"Of course you're helping," she quickly assured him. Any assistance was better than none. She would rather have Kane scare the hell out of her than go in without being prepared. "It's just a lot to take in." They were left in silence for a minute. "How did you do it? How did you know you were making the right choices?" He sent her a look.

"I didn't. I never knew if I was making the right choices, and I still don't."

"That's reassuring," she muttered darkly.

"I have a better idea now than I did when I won, I'll assure you that. All I meant isn't one can never know if you're making the right choice because so many factors are outside of your control. While the Games are based on skill, they're won by luck."

"It's too bad I'm unlucky then." They both shared a short burst of laughter. It was a ridiculous thing to laugh about, but it felt good to release some tension. Clarke felt something inside of her shift when she realized that this was the first laugh she shared with someone in a year. She sobered quickly, opting for a goofy grin on her face. _Laughing felt normal._ She felt like, for the first time in a long time, she could slip back into her old self, even the tiniest bit.

"I'm sorry – I shouldn't be laughing," he said quickly, trying to hide his smile. "There are no right and wrong choices – everyone is in the same place as you. They don't know what decision could result in food, or which one would result in death. You could have the best hand in the game, but you _have_ to play your cards right." She nodded her head in understanding. Somehow, Kane's words made her feel calmer. "Right. So… allies?"

"I want Charolette." She didn't hesitate to give this answer. In response, he lifted his eyebrows. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, almost like the words wouldn't come to him properly.

"The girl from 8?" he asked finally, his voice distant. She nodded. " _Why_? She doesn't have any skills from what we've seen." Clarke wanted to remind him that _nobody_ had shown any skills yet, but she decided against that.

"She seems like she needs a friend," she said after a brief pause. "Who would I be if I let a child suffer, knowing that I could've helped?" Kane was silent for a moment before a small smirk spread across his face. He shook his head in disbelief.

"You were pretty damn accurate when you told me your weakness was putting others before yourself." Clarke didn't know if she should take this as an insult or as a compliment. Regardless, she felt a tiny twinge of pride when he said that. "But, fine. If that's who you want, let's try to get her. I'm sure she won't have many other offers." He wrote a quick note down on the paper he was holding. Without looking up, he asked, "what about any others? If we're sticking to your strategy about building a pack to rival the Careers, you'll need more than a little girl."

"Raven. She's the girl from District 3. She seems nice, but confident." Kane nodded and continued writing. "The boy from District 3 too - Monty."

"Any particular reason you're trying to scoop that district?" He glanced up at her, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"No. I just got a good feeling from them. They're both calm and confident."

"Calm and confident. Got it." He tapped his pen to the page. "While they aren't from a Career district, they do come from the inner circle. They'll be trained in some trade, but probably not any fighting skills." He looked at Clarke again. "Do you think Raven or Monty could rival you for your leadership? We need to put you in a clear position of power." Clarke's skin crawled at the way he described her role. _She didn't want to lead teenagers to their deaths._

"I'll have to talk to them to see, I guess." She tried not to dwell on the negatives of the role he was setting her up with. She wouldn't be leading them to their deaths – she would be trying to lead them to survival.

"Good. Who else?" He clicked his pen again, which sent her nerves on end. She barely slept the night before and she was overwhelmed – the tiniest of things seemed to be bothering her that morning.

"How many is too many?" she asked. He seemed like he wanted to laugh, but he just shrugged instead.

"Anything more than 7 is too much, anything less than 3 is too little. We're trying to build something to match the Careers and demonstrate you as a leader. Anything within that range should do the job nicely." Clarke smiled at that answer. _She had a lot of tributes she was interested in getting to know._

"Then I want Lincoln – from District 8. He looks like he could be a powerhouse if he wanted to. His nose has been broken before; he's definitely a fighter." Kane paused in his writing.

"Do you think he'll challenge you for your position?"

"I'm don't know." She chewed on her lip as she thought about what he demonstrated on the television. He seemed to be confident and in control. The strength he radiated was what brought him to her attention in the first place, but could it be a bad thing? "Even if he does, don't people like to see conflict?"

"Only get yourself into conflicts that you could win," he told her quickly. "Your team is lacking in brute force – no offence to you or the others, but I can see sponsors being attracted to Lincoln for the sole fact that he's big and looks like he could win against anyone if it came down to hand-to-hand combat." While Kane was writing, she considered mentioning John Murphy. He was definitely not at the top of her list, but she couldn't get is glare out of her mind. He seemed truthful. On his reaping tape, he couldn't care less if he tried to. He looked fearless, but didn't seem like a threat. "Alright. We have Charlotte, Raven, Monty and Lincoln. Anyone else?"

"No." She held off against mentioning John Murphy for now. She didn't want to even mention him before she knew how he truly acted.

"Alright. Well, this is a good list. We've got Lincoln who is a fighter, and we have the pair from District 3. They're always brilliant in ways I couldn't possibly pretend to understand, so they have skills to bring. We've got people that I'm sure the sponsors will be pouring in over." He nodded one final time, confirming that the list he held in his hands was a good one. "Try to get everyone on the team and then we'll go from there."

 _It was easier said than done._ She didn't know how they would react to her or her proposition. She knew from previous Games that people liked to go into the arena alone. It was better in some ways; they wouldn't get attached to anyone and they wouldn't put themselves at risk for betrayal. She hoped that Charlotte, Raven, Monty and Lincoln didn't think like that.

She was leaning against the couch for the remainder of the ride. She couldn't help but think of the tributes that she would be facing in less than a week. Most of those faces would be gone – most of those kids would be killed. _Only one could survive._ There was a high chance that one of them would kill her.

 _She might have to kill one of them._

She never envisioned herself becoming a killer. She wanted to save souls, not take them away. The fact that in under a week, she would be forced to fight against her peers made her stomach churn.

When she was younger, she would wonder what she would do if she ever got reaped. She had assumed that she would be able to survive the Games without having to kill anyone – maybe by finding a good spot to hide in and stay away from other tributes.

Now? She wasn't sure that was possible.

 _She knew she would have to fight._

She didn't want to become who the Capitol wanted her to be, but she knew she couldn't give up. She didn't want to give up the life she always dreamed of; refusing to kill would be doing just that. She wanted to fight for her life, to fight for her freedom. She wanted to be _live._ She spent too much time of her life being afraid of living her final day. _She had spent too much time being afraid of her death._

She had to fight. She had to fight for a better future. She had to fight for a better tomorrow. _She had to fight for her life_.

As the train began slowing down, dread seeped into her veins once more. She tried to push back her emotions. _She couldn't distract herself from her game plan._ Instead, she focused on the scenario that Kane helped her construct.

 _Leader. Fighter. Selfless. Confident. Strong. Humble._

She tried to envision herself as those things, even if they didn't feel true in that moment.

 _It was time to play the game._

* * *

 **A/N: We finally got to meet Bellamy (kinda) and I couldn't be happier! I loved writing Clarke's first impression on Bellamy (and, of course, the other tributes). Of course, now the fun begins because Clarke gets to interact with more than just Kane and Wells!**

 **I've decided to include a list of all the tributes below. Most of them will be irrelevant, but it is also nice to have a place to look at if you're ever confused about a character.**

District 1 Male: Roan

District 1 Female: Ontari

District 2 Male: Bellamy

District 2 Female: Octavia

District 3 Male: Monty

District 3 Female: Raven

District 4 Male: Cage

District 4 Female: Luna

District 5 Male: Murphy

District 5 Female: Echo

District 6 Male: Wells

District 6 Female: Clarke

District 7 M: John Mbege

District 7 F: Maya

District 8 M: Lincoln

District 8 F: Charlotte

District 9 M: Illian

District 9 F: Zoe

District 10 M: Dax

District 10 F: Fox

District 11 M: Miller

District 11 F: Harper

District 12 M: Atom

District 12 F: Emori

 **Thank you for reading. Also, a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this fanfic. I've recently caught up on replying to reviews and PMs for _all_ my fanfics for "The 100," so I plan to reply to all signed in reviews for this fic soon.**

 **Thanks again! See you soon!**

 **Paw**


	5. Chapter 5: Brave, Princess

**A/N: I've been looking forward to posting this chapter ever since I came up with the plan for this fic. It was one of my favourite early chapters to write (you'll see why by the end, I hope) so I'm ecstatic to share it!**

 **Warnings: minor swearing, descriptions of negative feelings/being overwhelmed.**

I noticed I forgot to explain a few things about the tributes in the previous chapter. I'm sure some of you noticed, I put some characters from The 100 in as tributes that aren't the correct ages. The Hunger Games requires tributes to be between the ages of 12-18. In the cases of Bellamy, Lincoln, Cage and Roan, these characters are older than that. For the purposes of the story, these characters are 18 years old. I know, this is quite a drastic change for some characters.  
I had a tough time writing Cage as 18, since he is _not_ considered to be part of the delinquent/teenage group on the show. In his case specifically, I wanted to pick a character that was already a villain on the show to be part of the Careers districts. In the cases of other characters that are older than 18 on the show, I absolutely love them and I just had to write them into this fic, which meant changing their ages. I hope this makes sense! If you have any issues with this, please feel free to discard this paragraph. If it works better for you that they're their correct ages from the show, that is fine by me as well! Feel free to reach out to me to discuss any of this further.

 **Once again, I'm a little late with posting. I've decided to no longer stick to the 8/7c time (the same as what The 100 used to air during). I** ** _will_** **keep posting every Tuesday and I will try to keep it as close to 8/7c as possible.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Brave, Princess**

* * *

Once again, Clarke found herself tugging down the hem her shorts. She honestly couldn't believe what her stylist had dressed her in for the parade of tributes. Her cheeks were flushed and her mouth clamped tightly shut. _She was mad._

As Kane rounded the corner to her dressing room, it looked like he couldn't believe what she was wearing either. They both stared at each other for a long moment with disbelief in their eyes. She couldn't read his emotions that ran across his face, but she knew it wasn't good. Just seeing his reaction to her terrible costume made more frustration flood into her body.

"We can work with this," he finally said, trying to reassure her. He took a cautious step into the room, his eyes locked on hers. She groaned loudly.

She honestly didn't know how they were going to work with anything that she wore. She hadn't worn anything as hideous as the outfit she had on before in her whole life, which was saying something. She didn't think she could ever feel so uncomfortable in her own body as she did standing there.

It was moments before she had to mount her chariot for the tribute parade, and she somehow was dressed in the most ridiculous outfit. If her stylist was going for all sponsors laughing at her, they succeeded. _Nobody was going to take her seriously in her costume._

She wore a tight red button up top with dozens of black buttons going down the front. The black jacket was detailed with gold – she assumed it was fake, but knowing the Capitol, they wouldn't go for anything less than the real thing. The back on the jacket hung down to the back of her knees, while the front hugged her hips.

Paired with the awful shirt was black shorts that ended mid-thigh and black heels. Large gold buttons covered the front of the pair of shorts, catching the light hideously. The worst of all was the hat that sat on her head. It was black with large feathers sticking out in every direction. She could've sworn that the hat was the nest of a bird, not an atrocious piece of her outfit.

To go with her clothing, her makeup was painted on thickly. She felt like she was wearing a mask; every inch of her face was coated in some makeup. Every time she blinked, she felt resistance, like the false eyelashes glued to her eyelids were too heavy for her to hold up. Her eyes were covered in makeup too; the black makeup almost reached her hairline. She was sure the stylist was going for dark, smoky, and mysterious, but they failed miserably. _She felt like ridiculous._ She had never seen anyone wearing as much makeup as she was ever before.

"How can we work with this, Kane? I look ridiculous." Clarke was itching to tear off the stupid bird hat on her head. Her fingers twitched but she kept her hands steady.

She only had a few hours until she could remove everything she was wearing and curl up into bed. _Only a few hours._ She had to keep telling herself that, otherwise she would never make it through the night without ripping the hat off.

"It's not _that_ bad," he said, but he didn't sound convincing. He looked like he wanted to cringe when he looked at her. Clarke lifted her eyebrow at him. "Everyone out there looks and feels just as ridiculous as you. Trust me. No tribute enjoys playing dress up."

Which is why, as she stared out at the other tributes, she decided that Kane was a liar.

 _Everyone looked fantastic._

She seen a pair of tributes walk passed her – the two from District 12, if she wasn't mistaken. They were dressed completely in black; it was beautiful, eye-catching and _not_ ridiculous. The girl wore a floor length gown that glittered when the spotlights hit her. Her makeup was done subtly; unlike her own. The male tribute wore a simple suit and had slicked back hair. They looked simple and elegant. _Why_ couldn't her stylist dress her like that?

Her eyes landed on the Blake siblings, who leaned against their chariot several places in front of her own. _They didn't look ridiculous – not in the slightest_. In fact, she wasn't too sure she had ever seen two tributes look as good as they did. As soon as they entered the large room of chariots, her eyes locked onto them. _They were captivating._

They both wore similarly themed outfits, yet they had individuality. While her stylist had gone for the train conductor theme – of course, District 6 had to be train conductors – their stylist had clearly gone for something much more striking; Ancient Rome.

The female tribute, Octavia, wore a brown leather pleated dress, adorned with brass buttons along the front. The hem hung past her knees and flared out every time she turned on her heel. The bodice of her leather dress was laced up along the back with a thick black string – she looked practically sewn into her costume. She wore simple leather sandals, ones that looked much comfier than the pair of heels Clarke wore. A red cape hung off of her shoulders and spilled onto the floor. It trailed behind her as she moved, making her look like royalty.

Much like herself, Octavia wore dark markup that disappeared under her hair. Her eyes were striking and deadly, sending chills across Clarke's spine. She looked like she could kill with a simple glance. Her hair had been left loose to cascade down her back. To finish her outfit, a golden crown was perched on her head. She looked striking, like a queen in red.

The male tribute, Bellamy, looked like he had jumped right out of the textbook that she read in class once. He wore a brown leather pleated skirt that ended below his knees, paired with leather saddles. He was topless and armorless above the waist, showing off His scars and toned muscles. Clarke doubted that it was standard in Ancient Rome.

Just like his sister, a red cape hung from his shoulders and swept the ground. They looked like they ruled a kingdom as they walked towards their chariot, both of their capes dragging behind them. A shield engraved with snakes sat on his left arm, which he held tightly to his body. On his belt sat a single sword made of what looked like gold. She knew that the shield and sword were only for show, but he was treating them like they were real. She reminded herself that District 2 trained the children from a young age how to use weapons; he was used to holding the sword and shield.

His hair was damp, making it be plastered against his forehead and stick up at odd angles – almost as if he had just been in a fight. Perched on his head was a golden leaf crown, matching the female Blake. While they didn't carry any real weapons, she was sure their looks could kill. She wasn't sure if their stylists were going for a gladiator or an emperor look – either way, they looked chilling.

"You're drooling, 6," a snarky voice said from behind her. She jumped and spun around, coming face to face with none other than John Murphy, the male tribute from District 5.

"I'm observing," she countered. He didn't seem to believe her. "This is the Hunger Games, you know. It's kinda helpful to survey your competition."

 _Yeah. Sure. That's what she'll go with._

"Hm. Well, I prefer keep the drool off my chin when I'm looking at my enemies." While she had originally gotten the impression during the reaping that they were similar, she now had a very different opinion. He was cocky and forward and on her nerves already. "What are you supposed to be anyways?" His eyes flicked down to her red outfit, a smirk on his face. She grit her teeth in annoyance. _She freaking told Kane. She looked ridiculous. Nobody was going to take her seriously._

"Train conductor." Her answer was short, just like her remaining patience. He looked annoyed with her answer and she sucked in a breath to calm herself. She reminded herself not to make enemies out of her fellow tributes – that would only complicate things once they were all trying to kill each other. Kane told her to be friendly to everyone. _It was time to play her act._ "What about you?"

She examined his costume and tried to hold back a laugh. He wore a dark grey wrap that covered every inch of his body from shoulders to knees, paired with light grey pants. His hair had been slicked back and dyed grey. Somehow, his stylist didn't think he wore enough grey, and also painted grey makeup around his eyes and on his lips.

"What does it look like?" His voice was dark, but she could hear humor in it if she tried hard enough. She examined him again.

"I don't know. The moon?" He shook his head and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He looked like he was trying his hardest to keep from laughing.

"I'm a rock." She wasn't too sure whether to laugh or not. Was he kidding? His expression made him _seem_ like he was kidding, but she wasn't sure if he was the type of person to joke around.

"You're joking right?" She spoke slowly, trying to gauge his response. "Your stylist wouldn't actually...?" John Murphy stared blankly at her. She could see the actual pain in his eyes. It took everything in her to not burst out laughing at his expression.

"I _wish_ I was kidding," he muttered. He glanced at her clothes again and smirked. "Well, it looks like my stylist isn't the only idiot. Yours dressed you as a freaking train conductor." Clarke and John Murphy both cracked smiles at how ridiculous the whole situation was. She felt better knowing that not every tribute here had perfect clothing on.

"We're talking about crappy stylists?" Another girl joined the conversation. Clarke nearly beamed in excitement when she realized who it was; Raven – the girl she had her eye on as a hopeful ally. She wore a green dress that covered nearly every inch of her body. The only skin exposed were the tips of her fingers and her face. "Look at me. _Look at me_. I look like a walking hill." Clarke had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at her distasteful expression. It looks like they all had something in common – incompetent stylists. "I'm Raven, by the way." She stuck her hand out to Clarke first. "Let me guess... you're part of a marching band?"

"Even better – a train conductor. Clarke." They shook hands and shared a small smile. She had never thought that days before he would become a murderer, she would be sharing laughs with someone else.

"What are we supposed to be anyways?" The boy from District 3 – Monty walked up, staring at Raven. Clarke remembered from the reapings that they seemed to know each other before the Games. He wore a suit in matching colors to Raven's dress. He pulled at the fabric and pulled a sour face. "I will admit, green is good, but this?... Not so much."

"I'm a rock." John Murphy gestured to his costume with the roll of his eyes. "A freaking rock." He stuck his hand towards Clarke quickly, as if he just realized he never actually introduced himself. "I'm Murphy. District 5." Raven's smile faltered when he spoke. Clarke shook his hand.

"I'm Monty. 3." Instead of shaking hands with anyone, he merely waved at Clarke and Murphy.

"Well, I feel better knowing I'm not the stupidest dressed here," Murphy pointed out with a smirk. Raven grit her teeth and glared at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Just because you're not dressed the stupidest doesn't mean you aren't the stupidest." The group fell silent at her snide comments. Clarke felt like they had just been covered by a blanket of tension. "Sorry." She didn't sound it, but at least she made the effort. "I just met the rock earlier."

"Unfortunate for both of us," Murphy retorted. Clarke and Monty shared a confused look, both too scared to ask them to explain more.

"It's nice to meet you, Clarke. I think-"

"Are these people bothering you?" She stiffened as a new and familiar voice approached from behind her. Her jaw clenched and her breath caught in her throat. She whipped around to see Wells standing a few paces away, his arms crossed across his chest and a scowl on his face. He wore just as a ridiculous outfit as she did – a red shirt with dozens of gold buttons and a pair of black pants. Unfortunately for her, he didn't ware a matching hat.

"No. They're not the ones bothering me." Clarke couldn't help but make her voice sharp. It made her beyond angry that all of a sudden, he thought that they could be friends again – that they could move past his betrayal. _Tough for him_. She hadn't forgiven him yet – she wasn't sure if she ever would be able to. He ruined her life; she wasn't going to get over that easily.

Once again, awkward silence settled over the group. It was Raven and Monty's turn to share a confused glance. She lifted her eyebrows and he shrugged. Clarke caught it out of the corner of her eye and she felt a small twinge of satisfaction. Their silent communication practically confirmed that they knew each other from before the Games.

She glanced around the grand hall they stood in, examining the tributes around her. She caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye that made her heart fall to her stomach. _She felt like she was going to get sick._

The Careers.

Four tributes from District 1 and District 4 stood together, laughing and talking. She quickly corrected herself – they weren't laughing, they were sneering. Somehow, they already seemed sinister and cruel.

 _The Career pack. They were already forming._

She shook herself mentally. It was the Career pack, _minus_ District 2.

She caught sight of the Blake siblings. They stood together, near the rear wheels of their chariot – far away from where the other Careers were gathering. Bellamy had a scowl on his face and kept glancing towards the pack, caution in his eye. The girl at the head of the Career pack – Ontari – glanced at him, her top lip curling slightly into a sneer.

Clarke glanced away quickly. She didn't want either District 1 or District 2 to catch her staring at them. Still, she was curious. Were the Blakes not welcome in the Career pack? It was rare for the Career districts not to form an alliance. She couldn't remember the last time tributes from a Career district went into the Games on their own. What was happening?

"You're District 6's mayor's son, aren't you?" Monty's words broke the awkward silence that hung over the group. Wells narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the boy – almost like he was challenging him.

"What of it?" Wells' voice was threatening. Clarke knew that Wells was always sensitive over the subject about being the son of the mayor. He was teased all throughout elementary school for having to act so perfect. Even though he earned his good grades on his own, nobody in their classes believed it. They all thought he was handed things in life, just because who he was. Still, she wanted to push Wells away from her group. She didn't want any conflict or hard feelings between District 3 and herself. _She needed to get the situation under control._

Murphy snorted and took a step closer to Wells. His eyes glanced over his body, sizing him up. Clarke nearly groaned.

 _Too late_.

"Well, I guess I know who's going to win the Games," he said with a snicker. Wells turned his glare to face him. The tension between the group grew. Clarke debated about stepping in, but she wasn't too sure what she could say to end the discussion. Before things could escalate further, Murphy let out a large sigh. "Well, this is awkward. I'm leaving." He pushed himself off from where he was leaning on the chariot. "I would say it was nice meeting you all, but I would be lying." With that, the boy from District 5 turned and left.

While he was more sarcastic and rough than she was expecting, she had gotten one thing right. John Murphy said exactly what was on his mind.

Raven looked disgusted as he walked away. Monty turned to Clarke and they both let out short laughs. They both were thinking the same thing; _he was different._ Clarke liked Monty a lot – he was soft and gentle, but he wasn't quiet. They clicked well, and so did Clarke with Raven.

"We're going to head to our chariot too – the parade should be starting soon. It was really nice meeting you, Clarke." Monty repeated a similar statement before they also left, leaving Clarke and Wells alone.

She turned to him, daggers shooting out of her eyes.

"What the hell, Wells?" she snapped, anger flowing out of her. "Are you trying to scare away all of my allies?" He arched an eyebrow and scoffed.

"Allies? Clarke, were you talking to the same people I was talking to?" He glanced towards where Murphy stood, only a few feet in front of them, with distain in his eyes.

"I was, _in fact_ , and I think they're all very nice." It was a little bit of a stretch to call Murphy 'nice,' but it would have to do. She didn't want to discuss anything with Wells, never mind her potential alliances.

"Yeah, sure." His voice was sarcastic and sour. She rolled her eyes at his attitude. _Why was he giving her attitude?_ He climbed onto the back of the chariot and held out his hand to her. She stared at it with distain, before mounting the back alongside him. When he realized she wasn't going to be taking his help, he pulled his hand back to his side and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Is your strategy simply to ruin my plan? Because _that's what you just did there_." She pulled down the hem of the red top again, trying to get comfortable in the rough fabric. It wasn't any use. To make matters worse, Wells had pockets. _Of course he did._ She only had fabric sewn to _look_ like a pocket. She grit her teeth in frustration over her costume and her district partner.

"So, your strategy is to get allies? I thought you didn't want any." _No,_ she corrected in her mind, _I just didn't want you as an ally._ Wells was only trying to make polite conversation, but Clarke couldn't do it. She had enough frustrations that evening to last the week.

"That's none of your business, is it?" she snapped. They stared at each other for a long moment before he glanced away with a small sigh. He looked defeated and tired.

"I just want to look out for you, Clarke." Clarke laughed dryly.

"If you actually cared about me, you wouldn't have killed my dad." Her knuckles were turning white from how hard she was gripping the side of the chariot. "I don't need help. Especially not from you. _Just leave me alone_."

Kane was a man with perfect timing. He walked up to his arguing tributes, a smile on his face. Clarke wasn't sure if he was a good actor, or if he was actually oblivious to their argument. Regardless, she was glad to have him as a distraction.

"You two ready?" She nodded in response, even though she didn't feel ready. Who was actually ready to be paraded around in front of thousands of people and broadcast on live television? All she wanted to do was train for the Games at that point. _She would need every second of training she could get._ "Good. Remember what we spoke about, you two. You're in the Games now – it's time to play them."

She tried to commit those words to memory as Kane walked away. This was no longer real life – it was all a game to be played. _It's just a Games. You're not a person anymore; you're a tribute. This is your life; it's the Capitol's. It's all a Game._

As the chariots started rolling, she squared her shoulders and pushed her chin out. She tried to hold her head taller on her shoulders and have her jaw relax. She _had_ to appear the way Kane told her to.

 _Strong. Confident. Leader. Open._

She plastered a small smile on her face. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was the best she could do with feeling like she was going to pass out. She could barely hear the drums over the steady pounding of her heart.

She scanned the rest of the chariots in front of theirs. District 1 has already left the holding area, and District 2 was about to follow. She examined the Blakes one final time before they disappeared into the screaming stadium.

Next, she looked at District 3. Raven and Monty stood beside each other laughing, completely oblivious to what was happening around them. If she didn't know any better, she would've said that they were two friends spending the afternoon together – not two tributes about to fight for their lives. Monty said something and Raven let out a snicker before their chariot disappeared beyond the doors.

District 4 was the complete opposite of the bubbly chariot in front of them. They were dressed in a combination of netting and royal blue fabric. They stood as far away from each other as possible, not bothering to even glance in the other direction. That, paired with their rigid posture, told Clarke that they were ready to fight. _They were Careers, after all._

District 5's chariot held Murphy and the female – Echo. They were both dressed in various shades of grey, giving the impression that they were part of some boulders. Well, not really. But Clarke knew that was the look the stylist was going for. Murphy stood as far away from Echo as physically possible in the chariot and she stood with her back in his direction. There was tension between them, no doubt about it.

As District 5's chariot began rolling forward, Clarke's heart began pounding faster in her chest. She was about to get introduced to Panem as a tribute. She was no longer Clarke Griffin, the medic's daughter. She was no longer Clarke Griffin, the mayor's son's friend. She was no longer Clarke Griffin, the criminal.

She was Clarke Griffin. _The tribute_.

Their chariot started moving, sending her nearly falling to the ground. She gripped the edges of the chariot so tightly that her knuckles turned white and she felt like her bones were going to crack.

She could hear the crowd cheering loudly beyond the doors. The announcers were still talking about District 4 when they pulled up to the large doors; they were discussing how breathtaking their outfits were. Clarke wasn't eager to find out what they were going to say about her clothes.

The chariot stood completely unmoving for a brief moment. Clarke was overwhelmed by the screaming coming from the stands, and all of the flashing lights she could see.

 _Calm. Confident. Cool. Strong._

Clarke pushed her emotions to the side, choosing to focus on her constructed persona. She had to play the Game.

She wasn't just Clarke Griffin, the tribute. She was Clarke Griffin, the leader. She was Clarke Griffin, the girl set to lead the rival pack against the Careers.

The doors flew open. Spotlights focused on their chariot and they were lurched forward. She could barely hear the announcers over the screams of the crowds and the beat of the drums. She could feel the noise inside of her chest – she felt like her heart was vibrating from it. She struggled to breathe.

 _It was overwhelming._ Just two days ago, she sat in her cell, completely alone. She hadn't heard a human voice in a year, except for the small conversations she had with Peacekeepers. She hadn't heard the sound of music for months. Even being under the moonlight was a foreign experience for her; she hadn't seen the moon since the night before she was arrested. Her breathing hitched as her surroundings overwhelmed her.

Wells glanced at her and bumped the knuckles of his hand against hers. She ripped her hand away from him, almost like she got burnt. Even if she couldn't stand the look of him, she was thankful for their small contact. _He districted her._ Clarke found it a little easier to breathe after that. She smiled to herself. Wells always knew her the best, he must've sensed her unease.

She lifted her chin the smallest bit and smiled, completely pushing her thoughts of Wells and being overwhelmed by the lights out of her mind. She could barely see the crowd past all of the spotlights, but what she did see was filled with pastel colors.

She waved at the crowd to her left, feeling pleased with herself when the crowd cheered louder. Objects rained down from the crowd; stuffed bears and roses fell from the sky.

When she looked up to the large screens at the front of the stadium, she was surprised to see the girl looking back at her. She hardly recognized herself under all of the makeup. While she looked ridiculous back stage, she actually looked _okay_ under the bright lights of the stage.

She was also surprised at how much the crowed liked Wells. The cameras were focused mainly on him during the parade, which part of her hated and the other part of her loved. She was never one that loved attention, but she also needed sponsors to see her. The crowd was going wild when he looked in their direction. Of course they would like him – he was a volunteer from an outer district, after all. Plus, he was the son of the mayor – the man that helped implement the policies made by the Capitol in the districts. _The Capitol would love him._

Clarke looked at several other screens, each showcasing a different tribute. Raven and Monty looked just as warm and friendly as they seemed when she talked to them earlier. As for Murphy, he looked just as cold as he felt. Instead of his don't care expression, he had a half smile on his face. _It didn't reach his eyes._ The Blakes looked uncaring and hard as their chariot carried them towards the front of the stadium. The Career pack looked menacing and deadly, sending a chill through her body.

Behind her, she looked for Charlotte and Lincoln. They were only two chariots behind her, being from District 8. They wore black and dark green clothing, with chains wrapped around them. While Charlotte lacked any make up, Lincoln had black paint across his eyes, similar to Octavia's. He looked fierce and strong, while Charlotte looked timid and fearful under the spotlight. Clarke's heart went out to her. All she wanted to do was try to bring some comfort to the young girl.

Their chariot began the loop around the flame in the centre of a clearing. They halted to a stop in front of the president. She had become the youngest President of Panem several years ago, and her people _loved_ her. Clarke would admit, Becca seemed to be a better president than the ones before her. She was always trying to make change, even if it caused ripples to form among the Capitol and districts.

"Welcome, tributes, to the Hunger Games!" There was thunderous applause from the crowd. It almost made Clarke's head spin. "We acknowledge your sacrifice, reminding us there is hope to continue our good fortune for many years to come! The banner of Panem unites us all, as we work to achieve peace and a hearty tomorrow. Your bravery, courage, and strength is commended." Clarke could barely hear the president speak over the roar of the crowd. "Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favour."

Clarke had heard about the president before. She was good, fair and humble. She spoke to people from all walks of life – that's what made her such a widely loved president. She united people. What she hadn't realized before was just how _good_ she was at twisting her words and manipulating the crowd. What one person heard her say was not necessarily the same as the next. She spoke to everyone's inner desires with her simple words.

"You both did well." Kane was waiting for them as their chariot stopped for them to dismount. Clarke jumped down and tore off the hat on her head. She winced as the clips pulled some of her hair. "Clarke, there was buzz about you; about your composure, which was warranted. And Wells, you managed to attract some _major_ sponsor talk." Of course he did.

"I didn't do anything though," he protested as he climbed down from the chariot. "I did what Clarke did." Kane gave him a strong look.

"Don't fight if, Wells. If people want to notice you, _welcome it_." As Kane and Wells began discussing sponsors, Clarke's attention was drawn elsewhere.

 _The Careers._

Ontari, Roan, Luna and Cage stood together again, each with sinister and calculated smiles spread across their faces. Once again, the Blakes were nowhere in sight. It looked like District 2 wasn't planning on joining the Career pack that year.

While the Career pack had already formed, she still didn't have a single ally. She felt panicked at this. She was close to securing Raven and Monty earlier, but Wells made sure to ruin that. _Who was she going to ask to be allies?_ Could she still ask District 3, even though they seemed off-put by Wells? It's not like she planned for him to be in the alliance too – she wanted nothing to do with him – but they didn't know that.

As they walked into the training centre, she caught sight of a blob of green through the crowd. _District 3._ Just the district she was looking for.

She made up her mind. It was time to get some allies.

"I'm going to talk to some people," she interrupted Kane and Wells' conversation. "You both head up without me. I'll catch up." Kane nodded his head at her. He had caught sight of the District 3 tributes as well.

"We're on floor seven – just take the elevators up when you're ready." As the two men started walking away, Kane called over his shoulder, "And remember – we have an early morning tomorrow with training starting first thing! Don't be out too late."

"I'll be up soon," she called over her shoulder. She made a beeline for Raven and Monty. They were just climbing out of their transport from the stadium to the training centre. "Hey!" Raven spotted her first, a wide smile appearing on her face as soon as she did.

"Hey!" Raven sounded eager to see her, which got Clarke's hopes up for an alliance. Maybe Wells didn't ruin everything after all. She picked up the material of her dress in disgust. "I can't wait to get this off of me."

"I know how you feel. I had to take my hat off as soon as I could." Monty peered around the lobby, looking for something.

"Your district partner isn't around?" Clarke shook her head no. "I just wanted to apologize to him. I didn't mean to cause any-"

"It's okay," she cut him off before he could get too flustered. "He's not around. Him and my mentor already went up."

"Oh." His face fell. "Well, can you pass on my apologies? I didn't mean to make him upset and I didn't mean to call him out like that."

"Yeah, especially not in front of that jerk Murphy. Seriously, what is that guy's problem?" Raven blew a lose strand of hair out of her eyes and glowered. Clarke wondered what happened between them earlier for her to be so annoyed with him.

"I'm actually not close with Wells," she responded quickly. "I'm sure you'll catch him tomorrow if you wanted?" Monty nodded absentmindedly.

She was sure of it; she wanted both of the District 3 tributes as allies. Not only did they click, but just the fact that Monty was tearing himself up over a comment that was taken the wrong was just proved to her that he was a good person. Raven had a light to her that she was drawn to. She knew that they would both be trustworthy and they would work well together.

Before she could think more about it, she was already talking.

"Did you guys want to be allies?" She didn't know how else to approach it. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt her cheeks light up red. She might not have known how to ask them, but _that_ was not the right way.

Raven cracked a smile and Monty snickered. They shared a long glance, both clearly amused. Clarke wondered why they were laughing. She was just about to say something, when Raven spoke.

"We were actually talking about asking _you_ to be in an alliance with us," she admitted sheepishly. Clarke was stunned into silence. She could only nod. "I guess that settles it then – we're going to make one hell of a team." Clarke beamed a smile at that.

"We can discuss more tomorrow," she promised. They would have a lot to talk about and a lot of decisions to make. "How do you guys feel about others joining our team?" Raven shrugged and Monty nodded his head.

"I say the more the merrier!" Raven seemed happy and pleased with their arrangement. Clarke was flooded with relief. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I really want to change. See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Clarke!" She waved as the District 3 team walked away.

 _Her new teammates._

She felt a sort of thrill by talking to them. They were her first allies. She was heading in the right direction, gathering a bunch of tributes to work together. It was what Kane wanted for her and she had to trust that he knew best. She hoped that Raven and Monty were the first of many allies.

She glanced around the lobby of the training centre, trying to see if Lincoln or Charlotte were around. She still wasn't sure about Murphy, especially since he didn't seem to click well with Raven. Maybe she would have to sacrifice one for the many.

Not seeing Charlotte or Lincoln, she began heading towards the elevators at the far end of the lobby. She decided that she could worry more about allies tomorrow. All she really wanted to do at that moment was get out of the ridiculous outfit and crawl into bed. Kane was right; playing the Games did suck all of the energy out of you.

"Hold the door!" Clarke took off in a fast sprint to catch the closing elevator door. Even after she yelled for the occupant to hold the door, they didn't. They let the door close on her. She growled and jammed her hand in the few inches between the door and the wall.

 _Who would be such a jerk that they wouldn't have the decency to hold the door for someone?_

The door bounced back open from her hand. She let out a huff and straightened her posture. She was going to give the occupant a piece of her mind _. Silently._ She felt her eyes widen once she caught sight of who was in the elevator.

 _It was the male Blake._ The tribute from District 2. The older brother.

Bellamy stood in the elevator, his eyes narrowed at her. While his chest had been bare earlier that evening, he had slipped on a sweater to fight off the chilly air of the Capitol. He had the material wrapped completely around his torso, hiding his body from prying eyes. Clarke quickly adverted hers, so he wouldn't think she was staring.

 _She wasn't staring._

 _No. She wasn't._

She was shocked into silence as she examined the elevator. He stood in the middle of the space, taking up majority of the room provided. She couldn't imagine that the elevator could hold more than three people at most.

While she had been observing him and his sister for the past day, it was a different thing all together to see him inches in front of her. He was… more striking, if possible. His eyes were just as sharp as his jaw line. His hair had been pushed away from his eyes, but it still curled in all directions. He had removed the crown from his head, and had abandoned the fake shield and sword from the chariot rides.

He was the jerk that didn't want to hold the door for her? He couldn't inconvenience himself for one second to let her onto the elevator?

"You getting on or what, princess?" His voice was bored and tired. She returned his scowl and lifted her chin.

"I'm getting on. I didn't realize it took so much effort to press a button to hold the door for me, that's all," she snapped. She stepped onto the very small elevator, her head still held high and her shoulders thrown back. As she stepped on, her arm brushed against his. As soon as their skin touched, she could've sworn a spark passed through them. They both recoiled at the sudden touch.

"Watch it," he grumbled. While his voice wasn't cruel, it wasn't warm either. She was surprised. She had always envisioned him as a caring person. After all, he volunteered for the Games to be with his sister, she thought only a caring guy would do that. She thought that he would've had a good heart.

 _She was wrong_. He was not as soft and caring as he had first seemed. He was acting just like she imagined a _Career_ would. _Full of themselves._

She remembered Kane's words. Be friendly to everyone.

"Can you press seven, please?" She tried to keep her tone light and friendly. He lazily looked at her and smirked.

" _I didn't realize it took so much effort to press a button_ ," he said, perfectly throwing her words back in her face. She sucked in a breath and grit her teeth. He gestured in front of him to the buttons on the wall.

 _How hard was it for him to press one stupid button?_

Clarke huffed and brushed some loose hair away from her face. She awkwardly reached around him, careful not to accidentally bump him again. She punched her number and hit the button for the door to close. It swung shut immediately, but they didn't start moving. The cart filled with thick tension.

"I saw your reaping," she said suddenly. The silence was too much for her to handle. She thought about the the reaping that captivated her. She remembered the strength both Blakes had as they stood on stage together. She remembered the passion in his voice when he called out to be a volunteer. _He seemed worlds different than the man that stood in front of her then._ "To volunteer to be with your sister like that was-"

"I know," he cut her off before she could say another word. She pressed her lips together at his attitude. "I saw your reaping too." She waited for him to continue speaking, but he never did. He glanced at her again, a puzzled look on his face. While he looked annoyed and a little snobby when she got on the elevator earlier, that had all disappeared. He almost looked like the man from the reapings. _Almost._ "What the hell are you supposed to be?" She almost laughed at his confused expression.

"A train conductor." He laughed a little at that. She couldn't tell if he was laughing at her costume or _at_ her, but she tried to put her annoyance aside. She didn't even bother returning the question to him; it was pretty clear what he was dressed as. _Dressed amazingly as, might she add._

"You have a little drool," he teased, gesturing with his finger to the corner of her mouth. She quickly snapped back to reality and glared. _He caught her staring at him._ Just as Clarke was about to say something back, the doors of the elevator flew open. He didn't speak another word to her. Instead, he shook his head in amusement and stepped out. He brushed against her as he exited the elevator. Smugness and confidence filled her.

"Watch it," she mimicked his words from earlier, perfectly. He turned to her, an amused look on his face.

"Brave, princess," he mocked. The doors slammed shut. She scowled at the door. _Why the hell was he calling her princess?_

That night, she found herself climbing out of her window and onto partial roof below her. She wasn't too sure what the building that roof belonged to – all she knew was that it was empty and peaceful. She would have elected for the living courters roof, but it was six floors above where she stayed. This one was merely three floors below her window.

As she looked at the stars, she couldn't help but feel completely shocked and extremely frustrated. Who was he to call her princess? He lived on the Capitol's lap, yet he was the one calling her princess?

She clenched her fists at her side and bit her lip.

 _He really knew how to get under her skin._

How could she have been so wrong with her judgment before? He seemed like he was a good guy - he risked his life for his sister, he volunteered to watch out for her at the Games, he distanced himself from the Careers.

But she was wrong. He was infuriating, frustrating, arrogant, and cocky.

Maybe he didn't volunteer to watch out for his sister, after all. Maybe he was just like every other career - looking for the glory that came with the win.

Cold hard reality hit her like ice water.

Bellamy Blake, she decided, was a jerk.

* * *

 **A/N: A few notes…**

 **I am really trying to focus on how much Clarke has been impacted by her time in isolation. On the show, it was glossed over, so I'm really trying to bring that aspect to this fic. Especially during these early chapters, the impact of her time in lock-up and being alone for nearly a year is explored.**

 **I also wanted to mention something that is reoccurring throughout this whole fic. In this chapter, Clarke is given a lot of freedom (Kane allows her to explore the lobby by herself, she is able to climb out her window and go to the roof below her). This freedom would never happen in the books/movies of The Hunger Games.  
Clarke having a tiny bit of freedom is necessary to the plot of this fanfic, but I'll give a brief explanation as to why she was given freedom. I always imagined that she has more freedom than Katniss (like not being locked in her room for the night, for example) because she is participating in earlier Games. Clarke is competing in the 49** **th** **Hunger Games, while The Hunger Games series takes place during the 74** **th** **/75** **th** **Games. Maybe security was lacking for the earlier Games? Maybe the Capitol trusted the tributes more, up until there was a security breech and they had to impose strict rules? Feel free to go with whatever explanation you want (or none at all)! Like I mentioned, this change is important to the plot of the fic, so I hope you don't mind it too much.**

 **As always, thank you for reading. A huge thank you for all of the reviews, favourites, and follows! I really appreciate all of the feedback and the love this fic has been getting. It's something I'm passionate about, so it's great to see other people passionate about it as well!**

 **I will see you next Tuesday!**

 **Paw**


	6. Chapter 6: Building A Pack

**Sorry for the late update! To make up for it, I hope to publish one more time this week. I'll try my best and will post updates on my Twitter (Pawprinter1).**

 **I should also mention that the 'warnings' I put at the start of each chapter do contain spoilers for the chapter. If you prefer not to be spoiled, please don't read.**

 **Warnings: minor violence, course language**

 **Now that Bellamy has been introduced, I'm super excited to be posting these chapters! Things are going to be picking up soon!**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Building A Pack**

* * *

Clarke was too nervous to eat breakfast that morning. Even though she knew there wasn't anything to be nervous over – it was just training, after all – she couldn't stop feeling like she was going to throw up any second.

She was overwhelmed by how much she had to do. She still had to gather allies, hopefully Charlotte and Lincoln, the two tributes from District 8. She had to learn how to fight over the next three days, which was going to prove to be nearly impossible, since she never picked up a sword or a knife before.

It made her sick, knowing she would have to interact with other teenagers – ones she would be fighting against in a few days – like they were friends. She would be surrounded by people that would be trying to kill her in only a few days, and she had to be civil to them. She had to avoid the Careers, since their glares and snickers set her on edge. There was something about the leader, Ontari, that made a chill climb up Clarke's spine.

She was mainly worried about learning how to use a weapon. She had never held a sword before, while some of her competitors had grown up training with them. How would she be able to fight against someone like Roan and win? Even if she trained every second for the remaining days, she would still never be as good as him.

If her strategy was to attract a large pack to rival the Careers, she knew she would have to face someone more experienced in combat sometime in the arena. Her allies would be relying on her to lead them and protect them, which including being able to fight. If she was organizing a pack, it would be up to her to make sure they would have the proper skills to survive.

Clarke felt queasy as she piled into the elevator with Wells and Kane. Her hands felt sweaty and her mouth dry, even though she already drank a full bottle of water that morning. She rubbed her hands along her pant leg and chewed on her lip. She was shoved into Wells' shoulder as they piled into the too tiny elevator. She was brought back to the previous night and her interaction with Bellamy.

Just thinking of his name made anger flash in her. How could any single person be that cocky and rude? Gods, and to even think that she had been interested in getting to know him when she seen his reaping? What did she see in him anyways? Sure, it seemed that he risked his life for his sister, but how could someone so self-centered do something so selfless? It wasn't possible. She didn't understand him at all.

She pushed those thoughts out of her head. She had many things to do today; she didn't have time to think about the infuriating _boy_. He wasn't important anyways. Just another face that would be trying to murder her in the coming days.

Kane walked them over to the training centre. With each step, she got more and more nervous and her hands grew more and more sweaty. She tried to keep her face composed, not to give away the actual fear she felt inside of her. She couldn't let any of the allies know how nervous she was; not only would it dissuade allies, but it would make her look like an easy target.

As soon as they entered the room, Clarke walked straight towards Raven. She hoped that Wells wasn't following her; she didn't need any more drama in her group. Him meeting her allies and the tribute parade was more than enough.

"Morning," Monty greeted lazily. He had his eyes closed and his head rested against the back of his chair. "I don't know if it's good just yet."

"I feel the same way." Clarke settled into the seat beside Raven. The girl greeted her with a small and unsure smile. It looked like she was just as nervous as she felt, which was reassuring.

"How was your night?" Raven was bouncing her leg, which made her seem even more nervous. She looked restless and stressed, exactly how Clarke felt.

Clarke thought back to her encounter in the elevator from the previous night; the rude comments, the harsh glares, the sarcastic comments, _and the sparks that flew through her when she bumped into Bellamy._ She shook her head and cleared her mind of the last thought. The only reason she felt sparks was because he was one of the first people she had touched in a year; her skin was just a little sensitive

"Fine," she said tightly, trying to keep her emotions in check. She couldn't decide if she was angry with Bellamy _or what_. "Yours?"

"Have you felt the beds here?" Raven pulled a dissatisfied face. Clarke didn't agree; the beds in the Capitol were much softer than the bed in lock-up. _It wasn't the bed that kept her from sleeping._ "It was short from great." Clarke wondered how the girl could sleep knowing she was days away from heading into the arena. She barely slept at all the previous night.

"What's the plan for today?" Monty opened his eyes and leaned forward, lowering his voice in the process. "Split up? Stay together?" Raven turned to Clarke for an answer. She suddenly remembered that _she_ was the one that was going to be calling the shots, at least until they figured out the balance in the group. Kane wanted her to be a leader and she had to play that part.

"We can stick together today, feel out the strengths of each other. Then we can split tomorrow to work on skills lacking. Sound good?" Clarke wasn't sure if that was the best plan, but it was all she could come up with that made sense. She should've thought about it more; it's not like she was lacking for thinking time. She stayed up most of the night because of all the thoughts in her head. Both of them nodded their heads in agreement with Clarke's pan. "Do you guys have any skills that would be useful?"

"I've worked in mechanics for a few years now," Raven responded. Clarke was shocked at that; how could someone so young be working in a career field that required that much education? "I started young and studied hard. Paid off in the end. While I might not be the most experienced in survival skills, I'm good at improvising, ya know?" Clarke nodded her head eagerly.

Clarke didn't expect Raven and Monty to have any survival skills, not really, anyways. While District 3 was surrounded by Career districts, they weren't considered one. They didn't have training academies for the Games like Districts 1, 2 and 4, but they had academies for the most academic of the children. They were intense about technology and innovation. Well, according to her father, anyways. While Clarke knew about District 3 and their focus on education, but she was impressed by Raven already.

"I grew up in hydrofarming, developing the technology for peak plant growth. I'm not an expert at farming, I mainly work in the technology and innovation, but I know enough to get by." Clarke nodded her head and felt a smile creeping on her face. They both sounded brilliant. "What about you?"

"I was in school to become a medic," Clarke explained. Raven whistled. "My mom is a medic, so I started training when I was young. I would always go with my mother to gather herbs for her practice. Like you, I'm not an expert, but I can tell you which plants are useful for healing and which are poisonous."

"Good… we actually have a chance at _not_ dying from plants," Raven muttered. "Your mother is a medic?" Clarke nodded.

"I used to train with her to become one. I'm a little rusty – it's been a year since my last lesson."

With saying those words, she felt her heart drop. She was afraid of mentioning anything about her time in lock-up for the crimes she committed. The words from the Peacekeeper rang in her ears – shut it or pay. If Raven and Monty asked, she wasn't sure if she would be able to answer any of their questions. If they found they couldn't trust her, they wouldn't want to be her ally.

Luckily for her, they didn't think twice about her past situation.

"Good to have you, Griffin," Raven teased lightly. Clarke swallowed thickly. _Too close._ "Good with plants and medical treatments? I think I snapped up the best ally here." She laughed and slung her arm around Clarke's shoulders.

"I don't know about that." She playfully pushed Raven away. The mechanic stuck her tongue out teasingly. "I've never held a weapon before." The joy got sucked from the group. The three of them shared a long look.

"Neither have I," Raven groaned. She turned to her district partner. "Please tell me you have, Monty?" He shook his head in response. "Damn. So none of us actually knows any weapon work?"

"Guess that's weakness number one," Clarke sighed. "We should find an ally to teach us. Without any physical defenses, we won't make it too far."

"I second that," Raven agreed immediately. "Monty and I were thinking of seeing if District 10 knew anything? The male tribute seems like he would be a good one." Clarke quickly ran through the list of tributes in her mind.

The male tribute from District 10 was Dax.

She remembered watching him in the reaping. There was something about him that sent chills down her spine. Even thinking of him sent her hairs to stand on end. She had told herself that she would try to avoid him at all costs. He wasn't reliable looking. _He had death in his eyes_. He was untrustworthy and dangerous.

"I don't think so," she said slowly. She eyed him. "You see how he's standing? His weight is shifted evenly on both feet and his fists are clenched. He's ready for a fight."

"Oh. I never realized. Maybe not." Clarke turned her gaze to Lincoln and Charlotte. They sat together a few chairs over from them. They weren't talking, but they weren't pointedly avoiding each other either.

"What about them?"

"District 8?" Raven wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I don't know, Clarke, I don't think they have much to offer." She arched her eyebrow.

"Do you see his nose? It's been broken multiple times. He also has scars on his face and along his arms. Clearly, he's a fighter. I would assume he would be good, too, if he keeps getting into fights." Raven held her hands up in defeat.

"You're the medical expert," she teased. Clarke smirked at that. She sure seemed to have a good sense of humor.

"It's settled then? We'll ask both Lincoln and Charlotte to be in our alliance?" Monty and Raven shared a long look. Clarke was reminded that they knew each other from before the Games, which meant they already communicated well with each other. She watched silently as they communicated entirely through body language. Clarke remembered being able to do that with Wells. It was especially useful when they were at a dumb dinner party and weren't allowed to talk at the table.

"Charlotte too?" Monty grimaced, almost like he didn't like questioning the child out loud. "It's just… she's so young. We don't think she'll bring anything to our group. Lincoln, yeah. Charlotte… not so much."

"That's the point – she's young," Clarke pressed. She remembered how scared she was at her own reaping. She looked like a lost child, completely overwhelmed with everything happening. She was only 12. She was too young to be going to the Games. _She was too young to die_. There was one thing that she was sure of; she wanted Charlotte as an ally. "If we don't take her, who will?" Raven shrugged. "I know I would never be able to sleep at night if I left a helpless child go into the Games alone. She might not look like she's a fighter now, but people can surprise you." They shared a look again.

"I see your point," Monty agreed. "She _is_ just a kid." Raven nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." She turned to Clarke. "She shouldn't be too hard to handle." Clarke beamed at her teammates. It looked like things were looking up. Maybe she would get all of the allies she wished for.

"Great. I'll go ask them, then." As she looked around the room, she decided that she would approach both of them later. There were too many people watching each other here and too many ears listening. If she ever wanted to lead a pack that would not immediately be targeted by the Careers, she had to be secretive.

After a Games worker had explained how training worked – it was a free for all, with them being responsible for managing their own time – the three of them stood to the side and watched where the other tributes went.

The Career pack went straight to the weapons area. While the other tributes were more solemn and stressed, they were laughing and giggling. It didn't look like they were upset over the fact that they were going to be killing the other teenagers there. In fact, it looked like they were having a great time. Their attitude towards the Games bothered Clarke to no extent. How could anyone have such disregard when they were about to fight other kids?

Most of the other tributes had made their way to the weapons. It seemed that they weren't the only ones that didn't have any experience in that area. There were only a handful that had walked to the other stations, like plant identification and fire skills.

"Let's skip weapons," Monty said suddenly. "We'll never get a space." He was right. There was already a small crowd of tributes waiting their turn to practice on the dummies set out. If they wanted to do weapons, it would be smart to go later. There wasn't a point in wasting time in line.

They decided to go practice knot tying. While none of them had experience in that area, Raven assured her it wouldn't be too difficult to figure out. Raven had been correct for herself; she picked it up fairly quickly. Clarke found herself struggling with the simplest of ties. The rope kept falling out of her hands, or her fingers would tug on the wrong end of the rope. In frustration, she threw her rope across the table. It skidded to a stop in front of Raven.

"Can you show me that knot again?" she practically begged Raven. The mechanic nodded her head and didn't comment on her frustration.

She had assumed the girl would make a harmless joke about how she was struggling; Clarke picked up on her sense of humor already. Instead, she sent her a grim smile and showed her the same knot again. It only took several more attempts for Clarke to do it. Albeit, it was messy, but it was done.

She glanced around the training centre. Most of the tributes were still by the weapons, but many had moved to other stations. She still wasn't too keen on practicing with the weapons since the Careers were still over there and they basically scared her half to death. Every time someone from the outer districts would attempt something, they would snicker amongst themselves and make jabs.

 _She was infuriated by them._ Part of her wished that there wasn't a rule against getting into fights with tributes before the Games started so she could go punch them right in the face.

She didn't know how to punch.

 _But she wanted to learn by practicing on their faces._

Clarke looked for Lincoln and Charlotte as she tried to calm down. She wanted to ask both of them before lunch if they wanted to be part of her alliance. She could see Lincoln was practicing with weapons and she felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips.

He was good. _Really good._ His movements were fluid and his face concentrated. He looked just as trained as any other tribute that she had seen, including the Careers. She adverted her eyes and continued to look for Charlotte.

She spotted the young girl sitting by the camouflage station, her eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched. She sat a few feet away from the station on a lone chair, her legs swinging back and forth. She was all alone and probably lost and confused. Clarke's heart broke for the young child. Nobody should have to be alone in the Games unless they wanted to, especially not a young child.

"I'll be right back," Clarke told Raven and Monty. She made a split second decision to leave her group and talk to the young girl. There would never be a perfect time to talk to District 8, so she would have to make due. Plus, the young girl looked like she was in desperate need of comfort and a friend. She wasn't too sure why, but Clarke felt like she needed to help her as much as she could.

As she made her way across the training centre, she could feel eyes on her back. She didn't know how she could've known someone was watching her, but she had a zip go up her spine. She chalked it up to being locked away for a year, which now made her more in-tune to her surroundings. She hoped that it was only Raven and Monty watching her, but she had a sinking feeling that it wasn't.

She adverted her eyes, glancing around the large room to find who exactly was watching her. Her eyes swept over the dozens of tributes standing around the room, each working away at honing skills.

She seen the Careers off to the side, Ontari and one of the males already in a heated debate. The other girl, Luna, stood an arms length away, clearly uncomfortable with the argument in her group. They locked eyes for a brief moment, but the District 4 girl quickly turned away. If Clarke didn't know any better, she would've thought the girl wasn't interested in standing beside her allies.

Clarke continued to scan the room, still having the feeling of being watched. Her eyes swept over Lincoln and Murphy, both of which were too engrossed in their own activities to be watching her.

 _Then she seen it._

Her eyes locked on his, almost like they were two magnets drawn to each other. As soon as brown met blue, she couldn't turn away.

Immediately, she felt her heart jump to her throat and her fists balled up at her side. Her jaw locked as she held back insults rising to the surface.

 _Bellamy Blake._

He crouched down to the fire building station, a stick in his one hand and kindle in the other. He had completely paused in all of his movements to watch her walk across the room. His younger sister, Octavia, was working beside him, trying to build a fire. She had a look of completely concentration on her face and Clarke wasn't sure if she noticed how distracted her brother was.

She sent him what she hoped was a dark scowl. She was pretty sure he failed because his lips quirked up into a smug smirk, like he was laughing at her poor attempt. She pressed her lips firmly together and tried to keep her emotions in check.

What a jerk.

He flicked his gaze down the path she was on, glancing towards Charlotte. He glanced back at her, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed.

What did he want?

If she was going to base her guess off how big of a jerk he was to her in the elevator, he probably was wondering why she would bother wasting time with the child. _The frightened child._ Somehow, she doubted Bellamy had any sympathy for the young girl

She broke eye contact with him, refusing to entertain him any further. If he wanted to play, fine by her. This was the Hunger Games, after all.

She couldn't help but wonder… if he was such a jerk, then why was heart beating so fast?

She pushed it off, convincing herself that it was because he was infuriating and she was nervous. She tried to put Bellamy Blake out of her head again, for what felt like the tenth time that morning. Somehow, he seemed to worm his way into her already. _How freaking annoying._

As she approached her, Charlotte's head bolted up, her eyes wide and frightened. Clarke sent her a warm smile and turned her palms towards the child, showing her that she meant no harm. She slowed her pace and took cautious steps. She didn't want to scare her away.

"Hi. I'm Clarke. District 6." She slipped into the empty seat beside her once she seen Charlotte wasn't going to run away. The young girl merely eyed her, clearly questioning her motive. "You're Charlotte, right?" She nodded timidly. "Well, Charlotte, have you started working on camouflage yet?" She shook her head.

"No." Her words were soft and shaky. This was the first time that Clarke heard her speak, which wasn't surprising. She hadn't heard most tributes talk yet. Somehow, Clarke had a feeling this was a regular occurrence for the girl. She seemed shy.

"I haven't either," she admitted. She remembered reading that admitting flaws made you more approachable and easier to talk to. "Actually, my friends and I were working on knots. I'll let you in on another secret... I wasn't very good at it." She hoped her humility and vulnerability would spark the same from her in return. She wanted Charlotte to trust her. She wasn't going to hurt her – not now and not in the Games. All she wanted was to try and make this child feel as safe as possible. "I _am_ pretty good at painting though," she said. She hoped that she didn't come off as cocky; all she wanted was to advertise her skills, and hopefully peaking her interest. "Did you want to work on this together?" Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

"Why? What do you want?"

"I want to help you, Charlotte. Really, I do." She didn't look convinced so Clarke tried again. "My friends and I, we're hoping you'd like to join our alliance." She was silent for a second.

"Why?" she asked the same question again, this time with more confusion and desperation. She clearly looked puzzled. Clarke considered her answer cafeully.

"I want to help," she finally decided to say. "There is safety and strength in numbers. If we stick together, there's a high chance of others picking each other off first. We'll have a better chance at survival."

"Yeah, but why _me_?" Clarke noticed that the young girl was near tears. She wasn't sure if she was upset, or if these were tears of joy. "I can't offer anything. I'm just a kid."

"We're all just kids," Clarke reminded her gently. Charlotte's lip trembled. "You have a strength to you. Each one of us has strengths and weaknesses. The more of us in the alliance, the stronger we are." Charlotte took a moment to think over her words. She chewed on her lip and swung her legs back and forth.

"You're a good artist?" she questioned finally. Clarke's face broke out into a smile. Even though she was a little reluctant, Charlotte was willing to open up. _That was all she wanted._

"It's something I enjoy doing. Here, I'll show you how to camouflage yourself. We can all learn together." With that, an alliance was forged. She waved Monty and Raven over from the knotting station.

She had painted her arm a mix of greens and browns, trying her best to match the small tree close by. It was far from perfect, but she hoped it was good enough to get by. If she squinted her eyes and didn't look directly at it, she could barely tell it was an arm. _Barley._

And, Clarke was right; Charlotte did have lots of potential. As soon as she broke past those first few awkward moments, she was a friendly girl and a very eager student. She felt a swell of pride when she managed to match the green leafs of the tree almost perfectly.

"Clarke." She looked away from Charlotte, turning her attention to Monty. He nodded towards the weapons area, his hands occupied with the paint. "Nobody's there, other than Lincoln." She glanced towards the weapons station where Lincoln was practicing all alone. It was the perfect time to start a new alliance with him.

"Perfect," she mumbled, setting down her paint brush and brushing some paint on her pants. "I'll be right back – _hopefully_ with a new ally."

Once again, with every step she took, she could feel herself getting more and more nervous. With Raven, Monty and Charlotte, she had been fairly confident they would agree to become allies. Raven and her shared a connection from the moment they first spoke, and Monty and her had a similar connection too. With Charlotte, she was sure the small girl would be thankful for any protection offered to her. With Lincoln?

She had no idea what to expect.

They had never spoken before. They barely glanced at each other at the parade last night. Plus, if she was being honest, he kind of scared her. Even though his eyes were warm, he radiated strength that made her uneasy. He was trained as a fighter and intimidating. Especially when he was holding a sword.

She watched as he swung the weapon around a few times, completely in awe. She had never seen something so elegant and so deadly before. It almost looked like he was dancing as he went through routine after routine with his weapon.

When he caught sight of her, he froze immediately.

"Hi." She stepped towards him as he straightened up. "You're really good." She stared awkwardly at him, waiting for a response. There wasn't one. She cleared her throat. "I'm Clarke."

"I know." It was the first words he spoke to her, yet she wasn't too thrilled with them. This wasn't going like she had hoped.

"You're Lincoln, right?" She hoped that he would at least try to have a conversation with her. At this rate, he didn't seem interested.

"Yeah." His answers were short and concise, giving her the impression he wasn't one for talking.

She didn't blame him. She could see how people would get closed off while training for the Games. Twenty-four tributes went in, only one came out. The math wasn't hard. If you wanted to survive, you had to be selfish – you had to be the last one there. Making friends added a whole layer of complexity to the situation. _That_ Clarke understood.

With friends in the arena, there was a possibility that they would have to kill you or you would have to kill them – especially if you were the last ones around. Aside from that, everyone else in that arena would have to die – including friends. The loss of a friend would be painful, which most people enjoyed avoiding. She wondered if it was best to close yourself off from all others while competing the the Games. At least, that way, you couldn't loss someone you cared about, nor would you have the possibility of being betrayed.

She tried to put those thoughts out of her mind. She had allies – _not_ friends. They were only allies because it was what was best for all of them. _There was strength in numbers_. They had skills that she lacked. She could really emphasize her leadership – just like Kane wanted her to. It was what was best. No, she couldn't care about them. They were all trying to win and there could only be one winner.

"Listen, Lincoln, we were wondering if you would be interested in an alliance?" Lincoln eyes flicked up from the sword he held, locking onto hers. They were bold – making Clarke want to look away. She didn't.

"We?" he questioned. "Who?"

"So far, the alliance is made of me, the two District 3 tributes, and Charlotte – your district partner." She hoped that reminding him that she was his district partner enticed him to join. She was the only thing from home that he had at the Games; he would want to stay with her, wouldn't he? Although, the opposite could have been said about Clarke. She wanted nothing to do with her district partner.

He seemed to think for a moment before he shook his head. "I'll pass." He turned his back to her and began to examine the weapons once more. Clarke was taken back. He didn't want in their alliance?

She felt fear creep up inside her. They _needed_ him. Without him, they didn't have anyone with weapon skills or fighting abilities. Without him, they would be left completely defenseless if an attack were to happen. _They needed him_. Clarke squared her shoulders and stepped forward.

"Are you sure? Anyone could use a couple of strong allies," she pointed out. No emotion showed on his face.

"I'm sure," he echoed dryly. "But it's for the best this way. Thanks for the offer, but I'm good." Clarke tried to think of a way to get him to agree. They needed someone trained in fighting on their side.

"Charlotte was hoping you would join." She tried again, hoping that the mention of his district partner would encourage his decision. She was so small and innocent – how could anyone not want to protect her? "She mentioned how kind you've been and was hoping that continue that through the Games." While that was a flat out lie, she hoped there was some truth to it. If she was being honest, she wasn't too sure how Charlotte's and Lincoln's friendship was – she never thought to ask. They could have very well not spoken a single word to each other.

"She's a good kid." He placed the sword back on the rack, electing to pick up the slightly curved blade beside it. He began his examination on that weapon. "Still – I'm good."

Seeing Lincoln balancing a blade in his hands convinced Clarke – now was not the time to push him. He had made himself very clear that he was not interested in joining their alliance. She would have to think of a new tactic and try again later.

"Yeah, I get it." And it was true. She understood the appeal of not wanting an alliance. "If you ever change your mind, let us know. We'd love to have someone of your capabilities." Even as she was leaving, she tried to sway his decision by flattery. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work.

"Good luck."

They parted ways. Clarke headed back towards the camouflage station, a crestfallen look on her face. While she had been correct with her assessment of Lincoln – he was well trained and very kind – she was wrong to think that he would want to be part of their alliance.

"Damn. Didn't go well?" Raven picked up on Clarke's solemn attitude. She let out a small sigh and fell into the seat beside Charlotte again.

"He didn't want in." She rubbed her hands against her face. "That's okay though. We'll be fine without him." While that was a lie, she didn't really want her teammates to know that. She could bare this responsibility for them – they didn't need to be burdened by the truth. They didn't need to be weighted down by the fact that they were completely clueless on fighting and the one person she had thought would be willing to help just denied.

"Well, what about Dax?" Clarke looked at Raven again, a blank expression on her face. Raven glanced towards the plant identification area, where he was working away. On the large computer screen across the wall that displayed the results, he had come in dead last place. He had misidentified _every_ plant tested. Clarke didn't even know that was possible. "You know what? Never mind."

"Maybe we can still get Lincoln," she insisted. She turned back to the young girl. "You're his district partner. You see him more than I do. Maybe you can convince him?" Charlotte looked flustered by her task. "Just talk to him. See how he's feeling. Try to convince him that being in an alliance would be in his best interests."

"But don't tell him any intel," Monty added. "If he doesn't join, that would give him an advantage over us. Just tell him the basic details – keep it to the minimum." The two girls agreed with him. "I know it's our reason for wanting him, but don't tell him that we're – er – lacking in the fighting area."

"I don't know, Clarke…" She looked nervous. "What if I mess up? I could say the wrong thing…"

"What's the worst that could happen?" she assured her. "He would just get more knowledge about us, but we can deal with that if it happens. You'll be great at it." She tried to smile encouragingly at her.

"Okay…" she said slowly, returning a timid smile to Clarke. "I'll try to get him in. Don't get your hopes up… he obviously doesn't need us." Clarke turned back to where he had been training. Several dummies had been left crumpled on the floor, bringing home the fact that this man was skilled and dangerous.

"Everyone can use an alliance," Clarke muttered. She didn't know if she believed that fact, but they didn't need to know that. She turned back to her group, trying to put Lincoln out of her mind. "Good. Is there another station you guys wanted to do today?"

They managed to get through the four compulsory stations – shelter-making, plant identification, hand-to-hand combat, and knife wielding.

They each had their strengths. While Raven was brilliant at shelter building – she had a solid understanding of structures and building materials from her job back at the district – Monty struggled. Charlotte struggled to put up a pre-built tent, never mind build a shelter from scratch like Raven. While Clarke managed to put together the pre-built tent, Raven had to assist her when building shelter from the environment.

Clarke was nervous to go to any of the weapons and combat stations. She knew that other tributes would be watching them as they worked, looking for any weaknesses they could exploit. She tried doing the same, but she got so distracted with focusing on learning new skills. All she knew was Lincoln was talented at fighting, Dax was terrifying, the Careers gave her chills, and the male Blake made her want to scream.

When they did manage to go to the combat side of the training centre, Raven impressed them all with knife wielding. Clarke wasn't too sure if there was anything the mechanic couldn't do. She was the only one actually decent at throwing knives, but Monty wasn't too bad at physical attacks. Charlotte sat off to the side as the three of them worked.

Clarke had passed with a perfect score when doing plant identification. She cursed herself when it gained the attention of several tributes in the surrounding stations. Clarke caught the eye of the male tribute from District 7. He watched her, his face completely blank. Clarke wasn't too sure what to make of him; was he a threat or just curious? She didn't have too much time to ponder, since she had to help her group with that aspect. Raven smashed her palms into the controls, sending a series of red lights to flash on the screen. She was struggling the most in that station.

Monty was the best with hand-to-hand combat, but even then, he struggled when sparring the assistant. Once again, Charlotte didn't participate, which worried Clarke. During the bloodbath, they wouldn't be able to protect her. She would have to learn a fighting skill soon, even if she only wanted to use it to survive the bloodbath.

"Gross," Raven mumbled. As Monty was getting pointers from the sparring assistant, the three girls stood to the side to wait their turn. Raven had turned around and was looking across the training centre, frowning. Clarke glanced in the direction she was staring at.

Murphy.

Clarke couldn't help but smile the smallest bit. He was rough and crude and got on her nerves, but she had to respect his honesty and his 'no care' attitude. He must've put a lot of energy into perfecting how much he didn't care about things.

"Why do you hate him anyways?" Clarke asked. Raven scoffed.

"Gods, there's too many reasons," she muttered. Clarke lifted her eyebrow. "District 3 and District 5 arrived in the Capitol at the same time, which was pretty convenient." Her voice was dry and sarcastic. "So, here he is, coming off his train, completely _not_ watching where he was going. He walked right into me, spilling a freaking chocolate shake all over my clothes and in my hair, and knocking me to the ground." Clarke had to stifle a laugh. "It's not funny!" Charlotte was the first one to giggle.

"You're mad at him because he bumped into you!?" she laughed. Raven glared at her.

"Well, that's not all," she said. "After he pushed me over, I kicked his ankle." Charlotte laughed harder. "The next thing I know, the Peacekeepers have both Murphy and I pinned to the side of the train." Charlotte's laugh died off. "We're not allowed any physical confrontation with other tributes before the Games, remember?"

Clarke knew how it was like to be shoved around by Peacekeepers. Being a tribute and being a criminal weren't too different when it came to that. The Peacekeepers had power over them, and they weren't afraid to use it to terrify others.

After Monty got the basic moves down for hand-to-hand combat, they managed to tackle fire station, which both Monty and Charlotte picked up easily, and hammock making, which was another strength of Raven's.

Even though they all lacked fighting skills, she was happy with her alliance so far. Raven was a genius – she had good improvisational skills, was good with her hands, and could design nearly anything. Monty was just as smart as her, and he managed to pick up physical combat fairly easily. Charlotte was like she expected – inexperienced and scared, but willing to learn non-physical survival skills. She had become decent in the skills they had practiced already, but she wasn't sure if she would say that she was a master at any of them.

While her group worked on fire starting, Clarke glanced up from her pile of tinder and scanned the gymnasium. Lincoln had moved away from the sword station and was currently sparring with an assistant. Murphy was at the knife stations, and he was doing really well. She was sure that he could challenge Raven, although it would be too close to say who would win.

Despite having being frustrated beyond belief, her eyes searched for the Blakes. They were at the gauntlet station. The gauntlets were basically like a very large and dangerous obstacle course, complete with platforms to jump off of and swinging pendulums. Bellamy stood off to the side, a wide smile across his face.

Once again, she was surprised by the oldest Blake. He always seemed to be doing that – surprising her and confusing her. While she thought she had him figured out to be the worlds biggest jerk, seeing his face lit up in a large smile as he watched his sister complete the course made her question that.

She stayed firm and reminded herself – he _could_ still be a jerk, even if he was nice to his sister. Just because he was nice to one person didn't make him a nice guy.

Octavia was on the course, jumping and flipping around. She was agile and graceful, making her venture across the gauntlets very entertaining. She never missed a step and she never looked off balance. The pendulum swung around her, which she dodged very easily.

Clarke was impressed. She looked like she had been practicing for years on that obstacle course, when she knew for a fact that this was her first run. Did the Career districts have something similar in their training academies? By the way other Careers looked, she guessed not. Octavia must've been a talented warrior.

Cage looked at her, a slight glint in his eye and a smirk on his face. The opposite could've been said about Ontari. She watched Octavia, there was a hunger in her eye and hate seeped out of her. She had her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed as she watched every single one of the younger girl's movements.

Clarke looked away from the group and focused on building her fire. As Kane told her numerous times – any one of these skills could be the difference between life or death in the arena. She didn't have time to watch Careers show off.

Clarke wasn't too sure what was going on with the Career pack this year. While it had always been District 1, 2 and 4, it seemed to her that Bellamy and Octavia were distancing themselves. She wasn't sure what any of them were playing at. What kind of Panem was it if both the Capitol's lap dogs – District 1 and District 2 – were fighting on opposite sides of the Games? She couldn't imagine the Capitol would be happy to see their two favourite districts at odds with each other.

Then again, it would probably draw more viewers and more sponsors. Any little bit of extra drama was always encouraged and emphasized during the Games. If one tribute looked at the other with a funny expression, suddenly they had a complicated history that resulted in them battling for leadership in the Career pack. The Gamekeepers liked to embellish stories for the sake of entertainment.

It made her sick, how they twisted images around just to fit their image. They took kids – ones just as small and young as Charlotte – and made them play their sick and twisted game. They made them become different people. They made them abandon all morals. They made them scared and frightful that they would never see the sun set again. They made them kill other kids. _But even that wasn't enough_. They had to twist their words and make them look like completely other people.

She remembered several years ago, a tribute from her home district was nearly cut from the televised program of the Games altogether. While it was never confirmed, people said it was because he had a statement against the Capitol written on his body. Instead of showing who he was – who he truly was, and how he wanted to be seen before he died – they removed all footage of him.

She wondered how much actually went on behind the scenes, how much the viewers never got to see. How many conversations actually happened but never got seen? How many relationships – both sour and friendly – got made up solely for the fact it was good television. How much of the Games were lies?

If the Capitol could lie about District 13's destruction, she had no doubt in her mind they would lie about insignificant children.

She didn't know how much the Capitol changed for television, but she knew that she would find out shortly. She knew that even as they trained, they were being filmed. Every move they made and every word they said could be broadcast across Panem – no matter how falsified or real it was. It wasn't real. _It was all just a Game._

She wondered how much they would change her. It scared her to think that she could die as someone completely different than who she was. It scared her to think that this was all a game to them – _one twisted game_.

For the rest of the day, she couldn't shake the feeling of fear climbing her spine.

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 **I just finished pre-writing chapter number 30 earlier today! I also reached 175, 000 words while writing that chapter, which makes me so unbelievably excited. This is the longest fanfic I've ever written and I'm still super excited to be sharing it with everyone.**

 **Thank you all for the reviews, favourites, and follows! It means the world that there are people that are excited about this fanfic and are enjoying. Big thanks to you!**

 **Here's a question, if anyone wants to answer. What's your preferable chapter length? As I edit, the chapters are reaching towards 8000 words each, which is much larger than I usually do. What's your thoughts on this?**

 **Thanks everyone. See you (hopefully) before next Tuesday!**

 **Paw**


	7. Chapter 7: Still All Alone

**Here is an extra update this week because of my late update last time. I'm finding that my chapters are hanging around the 7000 word range, which I am fairly happy with.**

 **I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone reading! I just noticed I passed 100 kudos on this fic not too long ago, which is amazing! I just wanted to express my gratitude that so many people are reading and enjoying these chapters.**

 **Warnings: (minor) course language, mentions of minor violence, mentions of death**

 **Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy!**

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 **Surrounded By People, Still All Alone**

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Ever since they got to the Capitol, Clarke thought that she had done a decent job at avoiding Wells. While she still had to interact with him during meals and at the tribute parade, they hadn't had a deep conversation yet. In fact, the deepest that they had was when they first entered the train. She hoped that she had gotten her point across to him; she wasn't interested in hearing what he had to say to her. _They weren't friends. She didn't forgive him._

Wells was reading a book at the table when she arrived for supper that night, but his eyes weren't looking at the pages. They were looking just over the top of the book, directly at her. They followed her as she climbed the stairs towards the table.

She frowned. As if her day couldn't get any more complicated. It seemed that nothing could be straightforward and easy. She thought she made it very clear to him that she was not interested in being friendly with him. She didn't want to be his friend. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. If she didn't have to speak to him again, she wouldn't complain.

Part of her knew that she should hear him out. _He was her best friend_ , even if it seemed like lifetimes ago. No matter what he did to her, there would always be a part of her that cared for him. There would always be a part of her that wanted to hear what he had to say. _She would always care for him._ That part of her wanted to be friends with him again – especially since it was for their final days alive. They were close once. Shouldn't she at least try listen to what he had to say?

She pushed those thoughts out of her head. _No._ She didn't owe him anything.

He killed her dad. He betrayed her. He chose his career and politics over their friendship. _He made his choice._ It was time to make hers.

Someone that selfish didn't deserve her time; they didn't deserve her forgiveness.

Clarke pulled out her chair and sat down at the dinner table, her eyes never wavering from his. While she tried to convey her annoyance and exasperation through her eyes, he merely just stared. He looked back to his book for a moment and she felt herself relax.

Maybe he had gotten her message. Maybe he wasn't going to try to be her friend.

Only a second later, he sighed loudly and closed his book.

Clarke's heart sank and she swore to herself.

 _Never mind_. He apparently hadn't heard her before. He was going to try to be her friend.

"Clarke, I-"

"I told you earlier, I'm not interested in hearing your story," she pointed out harshly. Her words were sharper than she intended, but she was desperate to get this point across. "I know all that I need to know. You didn't keep a secret. My dad died because of it. I was sent to jail – I was put in isolation – for one year." His face was grim. "I lost my freedom because of your mistake. _I lost my family._ My life. You understand this, right, Wells? You understand how badly you screwed everything up?"

"I know. I'm sorry." His eyes bore into hers, silently pleading for forgiveness. "Really, Clarke. I'm sorry. If I could go back and change how things turned out, I would in a heartbeat. I would make sure my dad never found out about your dad. I would make sure that Jake would still be alive. I would make sure you were safe and that you were happy."

"Well, I guess it's too bad you can't time travel, isn't it?" She could hear the pain in his voice, but she couldn't forgive him. _Not yet_. Not after everything. Still, she softened her tone the slightest bit. She knew him, and she knew that he was hurting as he spoke. "I appreciate your apology, Wells, but I can't forgive you. _I can't_. You killed my dad. And while words are nice, they don't make up for the fact you betrayed me." Her voice cracked from emotion. She swallowed thickly and cast her gaze towards the table for a brief moment. She willed herself to get a handle on her emotions.

She didn't want to get so emotional… she didn't think she would. But she was talking to her former best friend. _She loved hi_ m. She trusted him more than anyone in her life. His betrayal hurt – it cut her to the bone. She didn't only lose a father that day, she lost a best friend too.

"I'm sorry." His voice was cracking with emotion too. They were both trying so hard to keep their emotions away. She didn't know why. They both had cried to each other more times than she could count. Maybe it was because he was always the safest place to her, and now he was anything but. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. If I could, I would change everything." They stared at each other for a long moment. She chewed her lip and examined his face.

Maybe it was because Clarke knew she was days away from dying, and maybe it was because her pain wasn't as fresh as it had been a year ago, but regardless of the reason, hearing his words made her feel the slightest bit better. She wasn't magically healed and she still didn't instantly forgive him, but she could feel her hardness towards him ease up. She felt like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

Even though there was nothing in the world that he could say to solve everything, hearing that he was sorry was _something._ Him regretting his actions was a step in the right direction. She could work towards forgiveness with him.

She nodded her head slowly.

"I know, Wells." And it was the truth. _She knew him_. She knew that he looked like he was in pain from his actions and how they impacted her life. She knew that he was sorry for what he did and for hurting her. _Still, a simple sorry didn't change the past_. Her dad was still dead and he was to blame. She pushed those thoughts out of her head. She didn't need to forgive him, but she could allow herself to let go the slightest bit. It felt good to let go. _She could work with it._ She could work towards forgiveness. "How's training going?"

With those simple words, their worlds shifted. It was a signal to both of them that _maybe_ things were going to be alright. A wide smile spread across his face and his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. He tried to suppress his grin, but Clarke could see how happy he was that she spoke to him. It was one of the first words she spoke to him that weren't hostile in a year. It was the first step towards forgiveness and towards their normal lives.

"Good, surprisingly. It's challenging, but what's life without challenge?" She sent him a tight smile. She'd rather be back at home, challenging what she chose, not what was forced at her. "What about you? I seen you with the District 3 tributes. Raven and Monty, right?"

Clarke wasn't surprised that he remembered their names. They both grew up in high society, which meant meeting many people from all over Panem. As soon as they could, Mayor Jaha encouraged both of them to learn names and faces as quickly as possible. _It will help,_ he told them. And Jaha was right; it did help them. Even though he was meaning for politics, it gave them an edge for the Games.

"Same as you. Challenging, but good." She didn't respond to his obvious attempt at gaining information about allies. Even though she was beginning to work on forgiveness, he still had to re-earn her trust. _That_ didn't come freely, not after she was betrayed so badly. She wasn't sure if she could ever trust him like that again. _She wasn't sure she could trust anyone like that again._

"Did you see the Careers?" he asked, quickly moving the subject away from them. He let out a short laugh at that. "They're so desperate to please. Gods, they don't know when to stop." His smile fell off of his face. "And John Murphy, District 5, is getting on my nerves." Clarke remembered how volatile they were together at the tribute parade. It wasn't a surprise that they were clashing heads again.

"Oh, really?" she raised her eyebrow. Those two were like oxygen and fire together; reactive and explosive. _And that was just from their first meeting_. She couldn't begin to imagine how they would be if they were in the same space for more than two minutes.

"He's got half the tributes convinced that I'm trying to be the next President or Mayor or something, just because I volunteered for the Games, and because of who my dad is. The other half, he's convinced I'm an easy target." She could see his jaw clenching in anger.

"Hm. Murphy is an interesting one," she muttered. Even though he was questionable, she still was fond of him. There weren't too many people out there unafraid to speak his mind and he was completely himself, unapologetically so. While he was rough around the edges, she valued those qualities.

"More like a jerk," he muttered. "They're calling me Mayor of the Games. How does that even make sense? Honestly, I'm not too sure if he knows how to spell _Mayor_."

"They're trying to get into your head and it's working." Kane walking into the room, Sienna on his tail. "I warned you about other tributes. They'll try to get under your skin and make you lose focus. Instead of training, you'll be focusing on them, which won't help you in the arena. Keep your distance from him. You don't need anyone targeting you." He pulled out his chair and sat down at the table.

"Too late," Wells said darkly, his lips pressed firmly together. "The District 5 male seems _eager_ to get into the arena with me." Wells glanced at Clarke out of the corner of his eye. "But I'm not the only one with a nickname." She choked on her water.

" _Me_?" This was the first she had heard of anyone using a nickname for her. Who was talking about her anyways? The only people she had spoken to were Raven, Monty, Charlotte, Lincoln and Murphy. She couldn't exactly see any of them talking about her. "What could they possibly call me?"

"Princess." Wells rolled his eyes, but smirked slightly. He clearly found it amusing. She narrowed her eyes. "Besides, it's not like _everyone_ is calling you that. It's just the District 2 tributes."

Clarke felt her nails dig into the palm of her hand out of pure anger. She felt her knuckles crack at the force.

 _Bellamy. Freaking. Blake._

He was going around, talking about her, and calling her _princess_? She didn't even know him, and he was _talking about her_ to other tributes? What an entitled jerk.

"You okay?" She felt a hand on her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. Kane stood above her, a concerned look on his face. "It's not the end of the world."

Clarke took in his words and sucked in a breath. _He was right_. It wasn't a big deal. So what if he was calling her princess? What did it matter? She got most of her allies she needed already, and she didn't think any of them would be abandoning the group because of some trash talk. The judges didn't hear what he had to say. Him calling her princess wouldn't kill her, although it annoyed her to no end.

"I'm fine." She let out the breath she was holding and tried to focus on the sense of peace Kane's words gave her. It was okay. He was just a jerk, but it didn't matter. "He's been on my nerves ever since we met." Why was she surprised that he was the one calling her princess? That was what he called her when they had the unfortunate encounter on the elevator.

"You've talked to District 2 before?" Kane asked clearly concerned. She couldn't tell if his tone was curious or scolding. He always held his emotions close to his chest and it was hard to read him.

"I have, unfortunately. It was brief, but it turned me off of all Careers for life." She rolled her eyes as she remembered their exchange. He was so entitled that he wouldn't hold the elevator door for her or press her button, nor would he have a normal conversation _like a normal person._ Did they not have manors and common decency in District 2?

"Good," Kane said quickly, leaning back in his chair. "Stay away from them – the Careers. They're always bad news and cause complications."

"Trust me, I have no intentions of going against that piece of advice," she grumbled. The group was silent as the food was served. "Seriously though... who does he think he is? Calling me _princess_? When he's the one living a luxurious life in the Capitol's favourite district?" She stabbed her fork angrily into her potatoes.

"Maybe it's because of who your mom is?" Wells offered after a brief moment. "She's well known throughout the districts."

"You bring up a good point," Kane said. Clarke glanced up from her food. "Both of you come from fortunate families. Your dad, Wells, is popular in the Capitol for politics. Clarke, your mom is well known for her advances in the medical field and your dad is known as an engineer. These tributes might be hard on you for who your parents are. They know who you are and they know you've had a relatively privileged life."

"We were reaped. We are here, forced to fight, and ready to die – just like them," she pointed out. "What, do they think we get special treatment? If anything, the Careers have gotten more special treatment for the Games; they've been preparing for their whole lives."

"I know," he said gently. "I'm just stating the fact that you two aren't just normal civilians. These Careers probably see you as easy targets – good targets – since you both grew up in the spotlight. Other tributes know you've been privileged and are close to the Capitol, especially in your case, Wells; they're going to take their frustrations on the Capitol out on the both of you"

"This is dumb," she declared. "I'm not denying that we're privileged – I _know_ we are – but how could that help us in the Games? We haven't fought before or trained before." She let out a sigh of frustration.

"They might not think that you're trained well, but they might associate you with the Capitol. Some of them will be angry for being forced into the Games and lead to their deaths. It's something to consider."

"I don't even like the Capitol," Wells pointed out sharply.

"And I'm not on the best terms with them either," Clarke pointed out. "It doesn't make sense."

"Welcome to the Games," Kane said dryly. "Competitors look for any reason to hate you, to justify that what they're about to do is the right thing. They'll look for any reason to hate you."

"Well I just hope my allies don't leave me," she sighed. Panic rose inside of her as she imagined being abandoned by her allies. She needed them for her strategy and to survive. They couldn't leave her. "They won't, right?" Kane shrugged.

"It's hard to say. I doubt it, since they already agreed and probably knew your background," Kane mentioned.

"If I were your ally, I would never give up that up," Wells said strongly. "They're lucky to have you. They won't give you up." She fell silent at his words and annoyance flared up in her. _If I were your ally._ He was hinting at her again. When would he take no for an answer? Just because she was working on forgiveness and moving on, that didn't happen instantly. She didn't want to be his ally.

"Well, you aren't my ally. So, I guess I'll have to wait and see." The potatoes in her mouth tasted like tar. This whole situation wasn't sitting well with her, and it wasn't just because Bellamy was calling her princess – it was _everything_. Bellamy, Wells, her allies, the Careers, her image and perceived connection to the Capitol. Just when she thought it couldn't get worse, Wells spoke.

"We _could_ be allies, you know." She froze in her movements and locked eyes with him. He looked confident as he spoke, like he was telling her something she never thought of herself. Of course, she knew they _could_ be allies, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to be anywhere near him in the arena. She couldn't forgive him and move on so easily. "That way we know, we both have someone trustworthy watching our backs."

"That's the thing Wells; you _aren't_ trustworthy." She pushed back from the table, the legs of her chair dragging nosily along the floor. Her lips were pressed tightly together as she tried to control her anger. "So, _no_. We won't be allies. _I still don't forgive you_." She got up from the table, her napkin being thrown onto her plate. "I'm not hungry anymore. I'll be in my room."

With that, she left the silent table.

As she walked to her room, she wondered what Wells would say to Kane when he asked why she didn't trust him. She knew he would be too curious not to ask. If she was in his position, she would want to know too.

She hoped he came up with a good excuse. Kane didn't have to believe whatever Wells said, but he couldn't know the truth. It was for everyone's safety. She couldn't tell anyone why her dad actually died; that it wasn't actually an accident. She could tell anyone the reason she was in lock-up. The only information that Kane had been told about her was that she committed a crime, she was a traitor, and she was a liar.

She grabbed a sweater that was laid out on the bed and opened up her window. While she thought over Wells and her situation, she climbed down to the roof below her.

She gripped the vines tightly in her hands and hoped that she didn't fall to her death. The summer air was heavy and held a certain coldness she couldn't explain. While it was humid out, there was a wind that seemed to chill her to the bone.

Maybe that was just the Capitol. While it was beautiful to look at, she knew it was deadly. It was like any glass artwork; from afar, it was stunning, but if you got to close, you got cut. She felt like she was getting cut over and over ever since she arrived. While it had only been a day, it felt like she had been trapped in this city for years.

She stepped onto the roof and smiled slightly. The roof was the only place she truly felt at peace. It was where she could be all alone and _think_ without worrying about the cameras and the sponsors. She didn't have to worry about making allies or not making enemies. She didn't have to worry about putting on a show. _She could just be her_.

It was a shocking change to go from being in lock-up and in complete isolation to being broadcast across Panem for entertainment. She was used to having the whole day to focus on her own thoughts, but, now, she barely had a minute to do so.

She rested her chin on the wall that surrounded the roof. It was rough and cold, but it also kept her grounded. It was easy to get lost in all of the lights of the Capitol. Her eyes scanned the horizon. The sun was setting behind several large skyscrapers a few blocks away, casting a shadow over her.

She thought back to less than a week ago, when she was still in her cell. While she had been alone and in pain, she knew she was safe. The government couldn't do anything to her, not until she was 18, at least. She had less than two weeks until her trial. Until then, she could do whatever and be whatever.

She had a lot of time to think. The only interaction she had was when a guard brought her food three times a day. At first, she tried to talk to him, to befriend him. She was so lonely and she was haunted by her past. Her dad's final words rang in her ears and her grief was fresh. She would've done almost anything to speak to someone, to help wash away her memories that plagued her. She learned quickly that it wasn't possible; nobody would talk with her.

She had always wondered why she was in jail as opposed to being an Avox. Part of her wondered if it was because she was under 18, or if it was for another reason. Somehow, she thought that being 17 when she committed treason wouldn't have prevented her from having her tongue removed. She could've sworn that she seen teenage Avoxes before. Plus, without her tongue, the Capitol would have been assured that she never would speak about what she knew.

Part of her was tempted to ask Wells what happened when she was in prison. Why was she not an Avox? Who mourned for her, who missed her? What did her mother do? What did _he_ do? What did the government tell everyone as to why a girl was in lock-up for the highest crime?

She rubbed her face as her thoughts came flooding back to her.

 _Her father._

She had no idea what the government said about her father. All she knew was that he supposedly died while working on his project. At least, that was the story that she had heard passed around the town before she was arrested. Nobody knew of his sacrifices or his assassination.

Both her and her mother knew though. He was executed for his crimes. The Capitol covered up his death. _They would do anything to keep the so-called peace._ Lying, bluffing, wrongfully executing, imprisoning, sending children to fight to the death – it was all fair in their eyes.

They would do anything to stay in power.

She missed her dad. For the first month in jail, she cried herself to sleep every night. Her heart was heavy with the loss. She remembered feeling her grief and her fear radiating through her whole body.

It was all so _unfair._ It was beyond that – it was sickening and twisted.

Jake Griffin had been working on developing new technology for a train system. After years of research, testing, and modelling, he finally had the go ahead to begin development on the project. He designed and developed a new system that would allow the Capitol and the districts to control unmanned trains around Panem. This technology was a mix of long distance radios, along with several tweaks and pieces of technology of Jake's making.

Not only was this a huge breakthrough in technology, but it would save the Capitol millions of dollars. If he could successfully complete his project, he would have been in the good graces of the Capitol – something that everyone wanted.

Clarke could still remember the night that everything changed so clearly. She had been reading a book in the family room with her dad, as he worked away on the radio. He was using old channels – ones that hadn't been used by the Capitol or the districts in decades. Just as her dad was about to give up for the night, they heard it.

 _They heard them._

 _"_ _Gaia, can you hear me?"_

The voice was full of static and barely human sounding, but it was there. Even though she barely understood it, she felt like it resonated with her soul. It was someone. _Someone was out there._

Her eyes snapped up from her book, locking onto Jake's eyes.

"I thought you said this channel isn't used anymore?" Clarke asked, setting her book down, a chill climbing up her spine. Her father had sprung into action and set to work on the machine. He spun multiple dials and adjusted the antenna before he answered Clarke.

"It hasn't been – not since before the war." The voices faded out completely and he swore.

"Then who is that?" She leaned forward and stared at the radio in bewilder. She wasn't too sure how to help – she had never been one for technology – but she knew that she needed to do something. " _Dad_ , who was that?"

"I don't know." His words were frantic and short. "Hand me the screwdriver." He gestured to the kitchen table. Without hesitation, she jumped up from her chair and brought him the requested tool. "If I'm right…" With one final adjustment, the crackle of voices was heard once again.

 _"_ _Gaia! Are you there!?"_

The voice on the other end of the radio was frantic, yet composed. Clarke was reminded of how her mother sounded when she had run away at the hospital. She needed to look professional in front of her coworkers, but she couldn't help but panic over her child.

 _"_ _Mother."_

She felt a shock throughout her whole body. She was right. The two women on the radio were mother and daughter. They were a family. _Families existed there,_ wherever there might've been.

She looked to her dad. She saw unmistakable fear in his eyes. Fear flooded her body as well, rooting her to the spot. She wasn't used to seeing her father so shaken and uncomposed.

 _"_ _Gaia. Are you alright? What do you-"_

 _"_ _I'm fine, mother. I was right."_ Her voice was distorted more than the mother's was. It almost sounded like she was wrapped in several layers of blankets, muffling her voice.

There was a long pause on the other end of the radio.

 _"_ _You were right? Gaia, I don't understand."_

 _"_ _It's still here!"_ She let out a mix between a laugh and a sob. _"District 13 is alive and well – still standing. I see the old theatre a few blocks down; I recognize the arches."_

The world seemed to stand still for Clarke. She stood up from her seat abruptly, sending the wooden chair tumbling back. She stumbled a few paces away and braced herself on the kitchen table. Faintly, she could hear her father calling her name. It sounded like he was miles away from her.

 _Did she just hear District 13?_

The thought was absolutely mind blowing and numbing at the same time. Were they hearing voices from District 13? It was impossible.

That was the district that had been completely wiped out during the war. The Capitol bombed them so much that they had destroyed the whole town and killed all of those living in it – every last man, woman and child.

She had seen images of it during the Hunger Games propaganda. It was gone. Rubble. Dust. Ash. Nobody could've survived that, definitely not a family with a radio.

They lost the war because that district had been destroyed, along with most of their weapons. Their destruction led to theirs. Without them, the war was lost. Once the war was lost, _they_ were lost. The Capitol ruled as tyrants. They were under their thumbs. The Hunger Games was born.

Clarke felt the room spin around her. She clenched her eyes tightly and tried to steady herself. She tried to focus her breathing as the world around her changed. _Everything was wrong._ Everything she knew about her life and about Panem was wrong.

How could this be? How could a whole district be standing?

Maybe she misheard the radio.

 _Yes._

That was the only explanation that made sense.

Clarke turned to her father, horror on her face. His expression matched hers perfectly.

"Dad?" Her voice shook along with her hands. "Did she say District 13?" It was silent in their house. The only sounds came from Gaia and her mother speaking over the radio, but they suddenly sounded so far away. It was just her and her father now. " _Dad?"_ Her voice took on a tone of urgency.

"They said District 13," he confirmed. Clarke was hit with so much excitement that she nearly fell to the ground. _District 13 was alive. A whole district of people were out there._ His voice sounded hollow and distant. He rubbed his face in both amazement and confusion. "Impossible. It was destroyed."

"Clearly not!" Clarke rushed over to the radio, her fingers shaking too much to pick up the microphone. She was filled with both horror and exhilaration. "There are people there – real people. _They lived._ They're alive. You heard her – District 13 is alive and well."

 _"_ _I'm so proud of you, Gaia. You kept hope that we would survive on the ground once more – this is one step closer."_ Her mother spoke with such fierce love that Clarke could feel it in her own heart too.

 _"_ _From the ashes, we will rise. I will…"_

The radio fell silent once again, replacing their voices with static. This time, Jake didn't reach to adjust the knobs. Both him and Clarke stood in complete shock, too stunned to move an inch.

"Dad, what do we do?" She broke the silence after a few moments. Her voice was on the verge of hysteria. "You heard them. _You heard them._ District 13 is still there." The situation hit her. She fell into a chair beside her and her hands flew to her forehead. _District 13 was alive. Everything she learned about Panem was wrong._ "The Capitol has been lying to us this whole time. They never destroyed District 13. They used their deaths to rule us in fear, but it's all one lie."

Her head was spinning. If District 13 had never been destroyed completely, then what lies were the Capitol feeding them? Were they telling them the story of the destruction of District 13 to keep them living in fear? Clarke couldn't help but think of everything the Capitol had built on the destruction of District 13 – their unquestioned ruling, the Hunger Games, the tyranny.

Without the supposed destruction of District 13, the Capitol would've fallen. The districts wouldn't have just accepted the horrific rule of the Capitol. Hundreds of children wouldn't have been sent into the Games to die.

"We have to tell someone," Clarke finally blurted out. "If District 13 is still alive – which they are – we don't have to live like this anymore. We can-"

"No, Clarke," Jake insisted strongly with a shake of his head. She fell silent, her words dying on the tip of her tongue. "If District 13 wanted to continue to fight this war, they would have a long time ago. There's more at play to this than we know."

"So, what? We're supposed to stay silent? We're supposed to carry this secret around like it's nothing? Dad, this will change Panem forever. And you're asking us to stay silent?" They were both silent for a long moment as they contemplated their thoughts.

"I'm not saying that either," he said slowly. "Let's think this through logically. If the Capitol knew District 13 survived, do we really think they would still be alive today? No."

"Not unless there was something else going on," she realized with a start. "The only reason the Capitol wouldn't attack District 13 again is if they thought it was completely wiped out, or if they had a deal." Clarke sat back down on her chair, her mind racing. Jake nodded his head.

"Good, good. Alright, we're getting somewhere. What else?"

"If District 13 is still alive, the Capitol either knows about it and is turning a blind eye, or they don't know about it." Jake got up from his chair, his hand running through his hair.

"They know about it," Jake said suddenly. His eyes locked on his daughter's. "Look how easily I found their channel. If I can find it by accident, they would be able to find it if they were looking." Clarke ran her hands through her hair as she realized her dad was right. The Capitol knew about the survival of District 13. "That means the Capitol knows." That made her feel sick.

"If the Capitol knows, then why do they let them live? Strike again. They were the turning point in the war – why wouldn't they wipe them out? Why wouldn't they strike again if they knew they were alive?" Clarke couldn't get her head around the situation.

"You mentioned it earlier. A deal. There has to be a deal." Jake began pacing again. Clarke was amazed by how fast his mind was working to comprehend the situation. She didn't know why she was shocked; her dad was one of the smartest people in the district. "There's something not right here."

"No shi-"

"What are you two doing?" Abby walked in on Jake and Clarke's conversation. She stood at the threshold of the door, her bag clutched in her hands, and a nervous expression on her face. She stepped into the house, shutting and locking the door behind her. Jake turned to his wife, clearly frantic.

"We just heard a radio conversation from District 13." His voice was quiet and unwavering. Clarke could hear the strength and the fear in him. It took one long moment for this to sink into Abby. When it did, her eyes went wide and her hand covered her mouth. Her bag went crashing into the floor. "The Capitol must know about them, too. They know about them, but they are letting them live." Abby was still too much in shock to say anything. She stumbled into the house, falling into a chair. Suddenly, Jake moved across the room, headed for the door. "I'm going to ask the Capitol about this."

"No!" Abby shrieked and jumped after him. She caught ahold of his sleeve, preventing him from leaving. "No. This is too dangerous. This situation is too dangerous. We shouldn't get involved."

"It's our right to know!" he insisted wildly. "We have lived our whole lives under the Capitol in fear of what they did to District 13. What if that isn't true? What if they never destroyed District 13?"

"This isn't our problem, Jake," she pressed urgently. " _They'll kill you_!" Clarke heard her words and she understood, but she didn't care. All she cared about the fairness of the situation and the safety of Panem.

"Mom, this _is_ our problem." Clarke stepped forward, her shoulder back and her words sure. She didn't challenge her parents often, but this was a serious situation. They needed to do something about it. "If the Capitol knows about this, then they are lying. They're telling everyone in the districts to follow them – and we do, because we don't want to end up like District 13. We've sent children to die, mom. Hundreds of kids have died, just as a sacrifice to keep them happy – just so we don't get wiped out like them. If we know they're lying, what are we supposed to do? Keep living this lie? Keep living under a government that is _lying to us?_ "

"Yes, Clarke. That's exactly what I'm saying. I would much rather live under a corrupt government than be dead – and that's exactly what you're asking for by talking to the Capitol about this." She turned back to her husband, his sleeve still clutched in her hands. "They'll kill you, Jake, just for knowing. If they know or if they don't know – they won't care. If you find out one of their secrets – a secret that could overturn their government and destroy Panem – they'll kill you."

"We have to try," Jake begged. "I don't want to live in a world with a secret this big on my shoulders. I don't want to live my life knowing that I could've changed the world, but didn't because I was afraid." He took hold of his wife's hand gently. "The Capitol is lying. They're tyrants. They're monsters. This just proves my point further – they've been aware that a full district has survived the war, but they aren't doing anything about it!" He was turning frantic by this point. "I'm going to tell the districts – I'll broadcast it on radio waves. They deserve to know that their government has been lying to them. They deserve to know the truth."

"No. I won't allow it." Abby turned a sharp eye to Clarke. " _I mean it, Clarke._ Stay away from this. _Far away._ It'll only get you killed."

 _She didn't stay away._

But her mother had been right – that information was dangerous. It was going to get her killed, just like her father.

She had mentioned it to Wells, out of her own fear and shock. He had been her best friend and he was the person she trusted the most. It had just come out – it was too much to hold in. She needed someone to turn to, someone that could help comfort and reassure her. She knew that she could trust him to make her feel better about the whole situation. She knew she wasn't doing the right thing by not telling Panem about it, and she needed to hear from someone else that _it was okay._

She was wrong to tell him. Somehow, Jaha found out about it. Wells was the only person outside of her family that knew what they discovered, so it wasn't too hard to figure out who betrayed them to the government.

Before she knew it, Peacekeepers had stormed their house. She was ripped from her bed that morning, and thrown into the family room. Her father was already tied up and being lead away for execution. The Peacekeepers destroyed the radio her father had been working on, and dragged him away.

"Don't, Clarke! Listen to your mother!" He shouted at her as he was pulled away from her house. Even in the face of death, she was strong.

"I'll do what _you_ wanted, dad. I promise!" She intended to do what her father wanted – to broadcast the fact that District 13 was alive and that the Capitol knew about it to everyone in Panem. It was the right thing to do. _It was her only choice._ What kind of person would she be if she didn't try to warn others?

Before she got a chance to, she was arrested for treason.

Now, as she stared out at the Capitol's lights, she couldn't help but chuckle darkly to herself. Who would have guessed that she would end up in the heart of the beast? She had promised herself to overthrow the government that lied to them, yet she was clothed in their finest and eating their best.

She knew that no matter how much she wanted to tell someone about District 13, she knew she couldn't. The government had made that very clear to her before she left for the Games. If she spoke to anyone about it, she would be murdered instantly. Whoever she told would be murdered. Her mother would be murdered.

There would be a heavy price to pay if she didn't keep her mouth shut.

So, she kept quiet. She knew she should have said something to someone. She knew that a small sacrifice of her life was nothing when compared to the large secret she carried. She still believed that the other districts should know of District 13's existence. They should know that the Capitol was aware of their survival and make their own decision on how to respond.

They lived in fear over something that hadn't happened.

They lived in fear, fought wars, and sacrificed their children just to appease their government – and for what? So they wouldn't end up like District 13?

 _Their whole world was a lie, and Clarke was sitting on it._

A particular nasty gust of wind cut across her, seeming to cut through her sweater. She pulled it tighter around her torso and decided to head back to her room. While she climbed up the vines to her window, she couldn't help but think of District 13 and how messed up the Capitol was.

She pulled herself back into her room and froze with one leg in and the other hanging out of the window.

Kane was sitting on a chair in her room, clearly waiting for her. His head snapped up from where he was staring at his hands and made eye contact with Clarke.

 _She was so dead._

Technically, tributes weren't allowed to be out of their rooms during the night. Tributes weren't ever allowed to be out of sight of at least one adult, whether that be their mentors, escorts, stylists or any official. She had just broke dozens of rules for the Games.

"There you are." Kane sent her a warm smile that instantly set some of her worries aside. She hoped that his smile meant that she wasn't going to get torn to pieces for sneaking out of her room and breaking the rules. "I've been waiting to talk to you."

"Oh. Sorry." She shut the window behind her and moved to her bed. She sat down in front of him and glanced at him awkwardly. When he didn't start talking, she began. "Did you need something?"

"The opposite, actually. I just wanted to come and say that I'm proud of you." The words shocked Clarke to the core. All of the responses she had prepared died on her lips. He was proud of her? She didn't think that she valued his opinions so much, but she clearly did. He was one of the only adults that had treated her with respect. He didn't act like she was a child – he treated her like an adult, which she was grateful for.

"Thank you." She smiled widely. She wasn't trying to impress anyone at the Games, but hearing those words made her happy. _She was doing something right_.

"You're working hard to make allies. I know how tough that can be – I've been in that position before. You never know who you can trust, and you never know if that person will be compatible with you. Yet, you went out there over the last two days and really nailed the look we were going for. People _want_ to follow you, Clarke."

"I don't know about that," she said sheepishly. She had never really considered herself a leader before.

"You've attracted allies from many districts, and have put together a team. You should be proud of yourself. You're really owning this." He stared at her for a long moment, weighing his words. "You remind me of your mother, actually, with your work ethic." Once again, she was shocked by his words.

"You know my mom?" The words tumbled from her mouth without much thought. He nodded. "How?" He was silent once more.

"I… Well…" He struggled to find the right words. She could sense turmoil in him. "I didn't want to tell you, since I didn't want you to think differently of me." Those few words set Clarke on edge. "I used to have a relationship with your mom. Many years ago."

"Oh." She fell silent as she processed his words. Somehow, she never imagined her mom with anyone else except for her dad. "She never told me." She was hurt by this fact, actually. Why didn't her mom tell her that she used to date Marcus Kane? Especially when they were saying goodbye – they both knew that Kane was the most recent male victor from the district. Her mother would've known that they were going to be meeting. Why wouldn't she say anything to her about him?

"I didn't want to tell you either, but…" He seemed lost for words. "If there was a good time to slip up, I'm glad it was long before the arena."

She didn't know what to think. Mostly, she was hurt that her mom never mentioned Kane to her before. For all she knew, Jake had been her only boyfriend before she married him. Now, she wasn't too sure. How well did she truly know her mom? What other secrets was she keeping from her?

"I had no idea," she said again, completely shocked. "When?" Kane leaned back in the chair, a small smile gracing his lips.

"We dated a few months before I was reaped for the Games," he said. "We dated while I was in the Games, but we both called it off when I was back. She's a wonderful lady, don't get me wrong. She helped me get through some tough times in life." He shrugged. "She wanted to focus on her career, and I was being sucked into the politics and drama with the Capitol. I didn't want to drag her into it. She had a bright future, and I knew the life of a victor would only hurt her."

Clarke was hurt more than anything by this news. Why wouldn't her mother say this to her? By the way Kane spoke, it almost sounded like they were in love and were thinking of being together for a long time. He didn't want to drag her into politics? He didn't want her to suffer with the life of a victor? He would only consider those things if they were serious.

Seeing her look on her face, he held out his hands in surrender.

"It was a brief thing," he assured her quickly. "I'm sure she didn't mention it to you because it wasn't worth mentioning." Clarke felt herself relax. _Of course_. If it was serious or not, did it really matter? After all, would she really tell her future children about every person she kissed? Doubtful.

"I see." She didn't know what else to say to him, so she kept quiet.

"This is an awkward topic," Kane determined after only a brief minute of silence. "And I didn't come here with intentions to talk about my former romance with your mother – trust me. There are many other important topics to discuss."

Clarke realized that he wasn't just here to say how proud he was of her. _Of course not_. Kane always had a purpose to his visits.

"What else?" She tried to push the news out of her mind. Kane dating her mother wasn't important at the moment and it wouldn't help her survive.

"Stay away from the Careers," Kane warned her again. There was a certain hardness to his voice that grabbed her attention. _He was serious._ He seemed terrified. "They're all the same – arrogant, snarky, slimy, jerks. They always lie. They always betray. They kill without mercy. They've been training their whole lives for this single moment – they wont give up their glory for an ally. They wouldn't even risk it." Clarke nodded slowly as his words sank in.

Somehow, she doubted every child that was born in those districts acted the way Kane described. Did it matter though? From what she seen, the Careers that year were not worth risking her life over to test that theory. They were all jerks.

"I got it. I wasn't planning on talking to any of them anyway. They're all… cruel." She tried to think of a better word for them, but she was at a loss. From what she seen, they were cold, hard, rude, arrogant, untrustworthy, selfish jerks.

She remembered her brief encounter with Bellamy yesterday. Even after trying to strike up a friendly conversation with him, he was unnecessarily rude to her. Plus, now knowing that he was calling her _princess_ behind her back drove her to her wits end.

There was no way she wouldn't be taking Kane's advice.

"Good. I just wanted to make sure you understood what I was saying. Like I said, you remind me of your mother, and she trusts without reservation. It's a wonderful quality usually, but it is deadly here. Don't trust anyone."

"Got it."

And she did. She could safely say that there wasn't a single person in Panem that she could trust.

 _Even when she was out of isolation, she was still completely alone._

* * *

 **Ah! Sorry for the lack of Bellamy recently! I always look forward to writing him and Bellarke, so I feel your pain. Good news: next chapter is filled with Bellarke moments. I cannot wait to edit and post it!**

 **I know ahead of time that** ** _I will not be posting this Tuesday._** **I will be posting on Wednesday or Thursday instead.**

 **In the meantime, if you're looking for Bellarke fics to read, I have a bunch of one-shots and a few other multi-chapter fics! There are close to 30 of them, and you can find them through my profile.**

 **A few notes:** I somehow wanted to include some Kane/Abby with this fic and this was the only way I could do so. I've never really explored their relationship in a fic before and this was the closest I could get. It was fun imagining them dating while they were teenagers haha.

Also, I absolutely love Wells and I would've loved to see more of him in the show. I've tried to include him as much as possible throughout this fic because of how great and under-appreciated of a character he is.

On a similar note, I really enjoy exploring the friendship between Wells and Clarke. They grew up together as best friends, so I am trying to really highlight how much Wells' betrayal impacted Clarke. That's why this chapter was really focused on Wells and Clarke, and how conflicted she is to forgive him. I hope I'm managing to portray just how hard it is to forgive the man who played a part in her father's death, but also how she wants to find peace with him before their deaths.

 **Thanks for reading! Thank you again for all of the kudos, comments, subscribes, and bookmarks. I truly enjoy reading all the feedback people give, so keep the comments coming!**

 **See you next Thursday!**

 **Paw**


	8. Chapter 8: Thrown By The Intimacy

**A/N: This chapter is the longest one to date, coming in just over 9000 words. It might be a little long, but that's because this chapter has some very interesting developments.**

 **Warnings: now that the Games are starting up, the chapters will include more violence. For example, in this chapter, they're learning how to use weapons. Just a reminder that this fanfic does include violence (in future chapters), but I've really tried to limit to what is shown on the TV show.**

 **Happy reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Thrown By The Intimacy**

* * *

Clarke woke that morning feeling exhausted. It didn't feel like she got one second of sleep that night. Between her buzzing thoughts and her sore body from training, she wasn't that surprised. She spent most of the night staring at the four walls of her room, her mind caught up in strategy and worry.

She knew that she had to keep going no matter how tired she was. She knew that what she was feeling now would not begin to compare to the exhaustion she would be feeling when stuck in the arena. No matter what, she couldn't show the others just how tired she was and how much the Games were taking out of her. Clarke was worried that her allies would view her as weak and abandon her, or her enemies would see her as a target.

Kane was right – trust nobody. Even though she was beginning to like her group of allies, reality had struck her the previous night. They either would all be dead, or only one of the would survive. Their friendship wouldn't last long inside the arena, and, even if it did last to the last day of the Games, that wouldn't prevent them from dying.

Still, she didn't want to stop trying with them. Even though only one of them could live, she didn't want to go into the Games without them.

It wasn't just her strategy anymore either. She _truly_ wanted to get to know them better. She could feel a connection forming between the four of them. Clarke wanted to think that if they weren't in the Games, they would've all been friends.

 _Maybe in a different life._

She tuned out the conversation during breakfast. She could see Wells trying to catch her eye from across the table, but she was solely focused on the food in front of her. She didn't want to have to deal with him today, especially if she had to keep turning his offer to be allies down. What didn't he understand? _She didn't trust him_. She didn't think she would ever be able to trust him, even if she was working towards forgiving him. If she couldn't trust him, she could never compete in the Games with him.

 _She knew she should_. Their survival was on the line; she shouldn't have been focused on something that happened in the past when they needed to survive. She should be taking all of the allies that she could get without hesitation. _But she couldn't_. She could work with him, knowing what he did. She couldn't trust him with her secret, never mind a knife.

Kane didn't question her decision either, which was surprising. She was worried he would force her to be allies with him since he was well aware that they used to be friends. But Kane was different than she expected. He was kind, warm and understanding. Plus, he seemed to follow his own advice; only become allies with those that you could trust.

Her mentor was a different matter all together. Surprisingly, she didn't view Kane any different than she did before she found out he had dated her mother. Sure, it was strange when she thought about it, but she was almost okay with the idea. She grew up in a small district, where everyone knew everyone. From there, her family came from a tiny margin of privileged families that stuck together like their lives depended on it. She grew up her whole life being surrounded by the children of her parents' old boyfriends and girlfriends. They were a close group, so she wasn't foreign to the idea of being surrounded by past significant others.

What bothered her was the fact her mother dated Kane while he was at the Games. How did she do it? How did she love someone that went into the Games – not only once, but now twice? How could she be loyal to a government that subjected her to that pain? If the Capitol didn't force them to compete, she wouldn't have had to sit at home while people she cared about fought for their lives.

And what hurt her even more was the fact Abby _knew_ she didn't have to go through that pain anymore. If she wanted, she could've completed what Jake started. She could've told Panem about District 13 and the Capitol would crumble. There wouldn't be any more Hunger Games to compete in and she wouldn't have to keep watching the people she loved fight.

Clarke knew her mother was strong, but knowing she had to watch someone she loved fight to the death made her realize that there was so much more to her that she didn't know. Her mother didn't tell her own daughter that she had to watch the man she loved fight. She didn't tell her everything. _Of course,_ Clarke didn't expect her to. But it just made her realize that there were so many things about her mom that she didn't know.

One of those things being Abby's strength. Clarke couldn't imagine watching one of her old partners compete in the arena. She couldn't imagine watching anyone she loved fight to the death. _It would tear her apart_. She was glad she never had to experience that. She only felt guilty that her mother had to go through it twice.

With Kane's reveal, she had someone begun to view him as more… _human_. He wasn't all just about strategy. He hadn't been a victor for his whole life. He had been someone's friend, someone's boyfriend, someone's son. He wasn't born a fighter – he had to become one to survive.

It scared her how much the Games changed him. Even more so, it scared her that they could never escape the Games, even if they won. Twenty years after winning his Games, he was still forced to come back every year. Even after playing and winning, he couldn't escape. The Capitol kept a leash on them forever. While she wouldn't be in lock-up anymore, she would be in a different prison.

 _She could never escape, even if she won._

She tried to put the thoughts of Kane and the Capitol out of her mind. She would deal with those problems when she came to it.

 _If she came to it._

As soon as they got down to the training centre, she met up with Raven and Monty. Charlotte was already sitting by them, her legs swinging back and forth. Raven greeted her with a smile.

"Hey, you," she greeted. Raven stood up as soon as Clarke approached the group, with Monty quickly following. Charlotte sent her a small smile, but continued to sit on her chair.

"Hi, everyone. Good. We're all here." She turned away from her alliance and glanced around the tribute centre. The Careers were still missing, but many of the other districts were present and already working at the stations. She could see Lincoln working on camouflage – he was pretty good. Further away, she could see Murphy building a fire. Her eyes automatically searched for the messy black hair of Bellamy. She tried to ignore the slight twinge of disappointment when she realized he hadn't arrived yet. "What did you guys want to do today?"

"Weapons," Monty answered without missing a beat. "That's one skill we _all_ lack. And seeing that there isn't anyone else that's a fighter and willing to join out alliance, it's up to us. We'll need all the help we can get." She agreed wholeheartedly.

"Well, there aren't lack to choose from," Raven pointed out, her eyes sweeping the large battle area. Shelves of weapons lined the walls, practice mannequins stood against targets, and there was one large fighting ring near the corner. It looked just like an arena boxers used to fight in before the Dark Days. "Swords, knives, axes, tridents, archery, spears." Raven continued to list off dozens of weapons that lined the walls. Clarke felt uneasy about every station she mentioned.

"Where do we even start?" Clarke muttered, feeling overwhelmed. Her eyes swept across the walls filled with weapons.

It was too much for her to even think about. She had never seen most of the weapons before. How would they even start to learn to fight with them? How could they ever get good enough to fight Careers in the arena; they were tributes that had been training their whole lives for that moment.

"Let's split up," the mechanic suggested. She sounded just as worried as Clarke felt, which was reassuring. It was nice knowing that she wasn't the only one panicking. "We'll divide the possible weapons in half, master one weapon and then move onto the next. We can then regroup tomorrow and run through all of them together. We'll get a better handle that way."

"Peer teaching," Monty agreed. He sounded more confident than Raven, but she could still sense some unease in him. "That's a good way to learn." Clarke didn't have a better suggestion, so she nodded.

"Okay. Charlotte is with me?"

Raven and Monty worked well together, probably because of their friendship before the Games. They seemed to be able to communicate almost silently and they knew what the other was thinking before they expressed it. Plus, Clarke didn't mind working with Charlotte. She was a good kid and eager to learn. She actually liked being around the young girl.

The split up before most of the tributes arrived for training that day. They had a lot to learn and not a second to waste. There were half of a dozen weapon skill stations and they needed to get through all of it in the next two days.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she knew that she had a fighting skill to fall back on if training didn't go well, but that wasn't the case here. She had no experience with weapons and neither did anyone in the group. She had no experience with fighting or weapons. What she learned over the next two days was all she was going to have to defend herself in the arena.

Clarke led Charlotte over to the fighting ring across the room. The stage had a shelf of swords along the side, plus several training mannequins already set up. While she didn't really want to be shown off across the training centre, it looked like a good place to learn. She could see posters around the ring, showing different moves with swords. She doubted Charlotte would want to learn how to fight, but maybe she could learn a thing or two by just watching.

Clarke wanted to scream in frustration. How was it fair that someone like her – someone who had never held a weapon before – would be fighting against kids that had been taught these skills for their whole lives? The Career districts had such an advantage against the outer districts because of their training academies.

Who was she kidding? Not a single piece of the Games was fair. It wasn't fair to her, but it especially wasn't fair to kids like Charlotte. She had barley gotten to live, and now she was expected to fight? She didn't have any survival skills, and they thought it was okay to put her in the arena? She would be fighting against teenagers as old as 18 – how did anyone expect her to survive?

Clarke picked up a sword off the shelf, anger coursing through her veins. Her fingers wrapped around the leather handle and she lifted the blade in her hands. The leather was cool in her palm and the blade heavy.

Both adrenaline and fear filled her as she examined the weapon. This was the first time she held _any_ weapon before. She had never owned anything other than a knife for cooking and a scalpel for medical training. Her heart pumped faster by just looking at how the light reflected off the blade.

Holding that blade symbolized just how much she had changed in a few days. She never would have considered picking this up before. Now? Now, she had to. She didn't question it. It wasn't about her being comfortable anymore. _It was about survival._

It chilled her. She told herself that she wouldn't change for the Capitol. She told herself that she wouldn't get bloodlust. While she couldn't stomach the thought of killing anyone, holding the weapon used to do so was a step in that direction. The Capitol was changing her. She was becoming a different person, all in the name of survival.

She looked at her hand that clutched the sword, absolutely sick. She could feel her stomach churning inside of her.

This would be used to kill someone in a few days' time. She would be using a weapon to fight for their lives. _She would have to kill to live._

She was tempted to drop the sword as fear and disgust filled her. Holding that blade felt like she was holding onto darkness. It felt like every one of her future mistakes and regrets were in the palm of her hand. She knew she couldn't drop the sword though, not while everyone was watching. She couldn't appear weak. No matter what the spectators thought, dropping the blade would make her a target.

Instead, she turned and flashed a forced smile at Charlotte. The young girl had found a chair off to the side, more than content to watch Clarke while she trained. Even if she wanted to train, Clarke wasn't even sure if the younger girl could pick up the sword. If she was honest, she was struggling to keep the sword in the air without wavering. It was much heavier than it looked.

"How do I look?" she questioned, trying to make light of a dark situation. It helped having to entertain and reassure Charlotte – it distracted her from her own worries and prevented her from getting sucked into her thoughts. Even though they were surrounded by the thought of death, she didn't want that to consume either one of them. Charlotte studied her for a moment before returning a smile.

"Like a warrior." Clarke felt a warmth rise in her with Charlotte's soft words. She never had a little sibling – it was rare in the outer districts. Families could hardly provide food for one child, never mind two. While her family had been privileged, her parents knew that a second child would be tough to raise. Both of them had time consuming careers and they wouldn't have time for another baby. She had always wished for one though. That's why, when Charlotte complimented her, she couldn't help but feel affection towards her. She liked to think that in another life, she would have viewed her as a sister.

Clarke turned towards the mannequin in the centre of the ring and studied it. She was glad that there wasn't a face to it – she wasn't sure she would be able to practice with one there. It was tough enough to have to train on something that resembled a human, she couldn't imagine what a face would do to her. _She couldn't imagine what the real thing would do to her._ She was freaking out, just by looking at a mannequin. How would she feel when it was another kid in front of her, not something fake? She ignored her fears and walked towards it confidently. She turned her thoughts away from her discomfort.

Inside, she was panicking. How do you swing a sword?

Her palm was sweaty, making the sword slippery beyond belief. The sword weighed more than she thought it would and it was tipping forward. Between the weight and her sweaty hands, she was struggling to keep it upright.

Still, she didn't want anyone to know this was the first time she was going to use this weapon. She needed to be good and she needed to be convincing. Someone that struggled to use a weapon was bound to draw attention – and not the good kind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she briefly scanned the poster that hung a few feet away. It showed the proper positioning of the feet, as well as how to swing at an opponent.

She reached the mannequin. Her heart was pounding rapidly and she took a deep breath to steady herself. She replicated the stance on the poster, clenched her jaw, and swung. As the sword was coming around in an arc, it twisted in her grip, making it so the flat of the blade smacked into the torso of the mannequin. She gritted her teeth and swore under her breath.

She forced out a smile and repositioned her stance. She wiped her hands off on her training pants and hoped that would help her. She swung the sword in a wide arc again. She almost let out a cheer of happiness when the blade hit the mannequin's torso, slicing through the first few layers of material.

"Yay!" She could hear Charlotte cheering from behind her. "You're such a badass, Clarke!" She felt a sense of pride swell within her. She wasn't great at using a sword, but she figured it out on her own. For the first time that day, she felt _okay._ She felt like they could figure enough things out to get by.

"I-"

"More like princess here is just straight up bad," a voice said from behind her. Clarke clenched her jaw again and bit her tongue. She could feel anger rising in her from hearing his voice. His voice was just as cocky and his words just as arrogant as they were the night on the elevator.

 _Blake._

"So does that make you the ass?" she countered. She turned her head slowly and met his stare. He was watching her from across the ring. She frowned as she glanced over him. He wore a similar outfit to her; brown pants and a simple black top, but it wasn't his outfit that caught her attention. It was his eyes. While she had remembered them being intense and intimidating, they were soft and curious now. She pushed that thought from her mind. "What do you want?" she questioned flatly. Instead of the cocky smirk she was expecting to see, she was surprised to be met with a smile.

She was taken back. In that moment, he reminded her so much of the man she seen at the reaping, not the one she met in the elevator. She could sense a peace in him that she hadn't felt while on the elevator. It felt endearing.

She remembered Kane's words. Careers were bad news. She was reminded of a poisonous animal. They would draw you in with pretty colors, but attack if you got too close. She wouldn't be making that mistake here.

"That was a good one," he joked with her, referencing her comeback. "I was kidding, by the way. About you being bad," he said slowly. She merely blinked at him. She didn't have time to entertain him with banter.

Bellamy grabbed a sword from the display and stepped into the ring before she could realize what he was doing. Somehow, seeing him with a sword caused her breath to hitch in her throat. She was instantly reminded that he was a trained killer, and a good one, at that. He had practiced his whole life to kill teenagers with weapons like those surrounding them.

Clarke knew that she should be worried that he was armed, but she oddly wasn't. While he seemed like a jerk, he didn't seem threatening. Not yet, at least.

"You're doing fairly well," he complimented. Clarke cocked an eyebrow at him, and he smiled wider. She rolled her eyes at him. "Alright, I wouldn't say _well_ , but you have potential." Clarke didn't say anything. She watched cautiously as he shifted his weight as he stood several feet away. Finally, he sighed. "Here. How about I show you a few tricks?" He stepped forward and Clarke stepped backwards. She wasn't going to let him get any closer. Even though she didn't feel like she was in danger, she didn't want to risk it.

"Why?" She took another step away from him, putting more distance between themselves. "I don't want to owe you any favors, Blake, especially when we're headed to the arena in a few days." She already knew that he would be cashing in his favors while in the arena, or during precious training time. Owing people something was never a good thing while on a time limit. He shook his head.

"This isn't about favors. You just looked like you were struggling and I want to help." She didn't buy it. She narrowed her eyes and looked him over.

If she didn't know any better, she would've guessed that he was… normal. He didn't hold himself with so much pride that she wanted to get sick, but she could also feel his confidence. He didn't look like he was waiting for a perfect opening to stab her, which wasn't saying much. Bellamy looked like a normal teenager as he stood in front of her, not a tribute and definitely not a Career.

Still, she didn't trust him. He couldn't have been doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He had to have an ulterior motive.

In exasperation, he sighed. "Fine. If you want to call us even, then show me how to paint and I'll show you how to fight. We'll be even after that. No favors. Deal?"

Clarke was smart. She knew this was a good deal, to learn fighting from one of the best here, in her opinion. He was a Career – of course he was going to be one of the better fighters sent to the Games. And for what in exchange? So he could do some arts and crafts with her? Something didn't add up. Why would a Career like him be interested in camouflage anyway? Something wasn't adding up.

Then again, he wasn't the typical Career. Both Bellamy and Octavia had been avoiding the pack since the first moment she seen them. They were from District 2, a district that usually lead the pack of Careers in the Games. From what she had observed, Districts 1 and 4 had major issues with District 2.

Still, that didn't explain why he was wanting to help her.

"I'm serious, Blake. Why are you wanting to help?" She took a few steps forward, her shoulders thrown back, and her arms crossed. She was standing so close that, if she wanted to, she could've poked his chest with the tip of her sword.

His smile faltered the slightest bit. She smirked at that. Bellamy matched her strides and stepped closer. Now, she could poke his chest with her finger if she wanted to. He dipped his head a bit, so his lips were closer to her face. She never realized how much taller he was than her before that moment.

She felt her heart racing. She didn't understand why – he was one of the most frustrating person she had met. Why would her heart be racing and he palms be sweating for him?

She was scared, she told herself. He had completely violated her personal space and startled her. He still wasn't telling her the truth. He was holding a weapon. He was a trained killer. It was a recipe for racing hearts and sweating palms.

She was about to step back again, when she reminded herself that people would be watching – and not just people in the gymnasium, but also sponsors and people from across Panem. She couldn't risk looking like she was backing down from a fight. She rooted her feet to the floor and chose to glare at him instead.

"I'm impressed by you, Griffin." His voice wasn't warm nor cold, but it didn't hold the same hostility it did when she met him in the elevators. It sounded like he was stating a fact and nothing more. She scoffed in response.

"Why would you be impressed by me?" she countered. What was he playing at? The only thing she possibly could've impressed him with was her camouflaging skills, but she doubted he was impressed that easily. What game was he playing?

"Charlotte." With that one word he leaned away from her and walked up to the practice mannequin. She was stunned into silence as cold hands gripped her heart. What did he want with Charlotte?

Hot rage filled her. She might have only known the young girl for a few days, but she already cared for her so much. A fierce sense of protectiveness overcame her. _He better stay away from the young girl._ She was too young to be caught up in the Games, never mind targeted by a Career. She was filled with the instinct to protect her young friend.

Bellamy lifted his sword and swung one clean arc. His blade sliced through the mannequin completely, seemingly taking barely any effort on his part. The left arm hit the floor with a bang. While Clarke was impressed he made it look so easy, her mind was preoccupied with Charlotte's well-being.

Did Bellamy just threaten her? A little girl? It seemed absurd to Clarke that anyone would want to hurt a child. Even though he was a Career, she never thought he would be capable of hurting someone so young and innocent.

Clarke turned to the young girl. She sat on the chair a few feet away, not a care in the world. She was eyeing Bellamy curiously, but she wasn't evaluating him. She was more so staring at him, trying to figure out who he was and why he was there. She must've missed their quick conversation and the threat he made to her.

"Charlotte. Go find Raven." Her words were sharp and held no room for question.

The young girl stopped swinging her legs and looked at Clarke in confusion. Clarke tried to convey her worry and panic through her eyes. _She had to go._ If it came down to it, Clarke wouldn't be able to protect her against him. He had years of training, while Clarke had less than a minute. While she didn't think he would actually try to harm her, a motherly instinct to protect had filled her. Charlotte seemed to understand her desperation, because she got up and left without another question.

As soon as she was out of ear shot, she rounded on him. He had destroyed the first mannequin easily and was now leaning against the table. She narrowed her eyes and stalked up to him. Her rage had cooled to a hot anger at that point. A chilling numbness came over her as she walked up to him.

"Stay away from her," she warned him. Her voice was as cold as ice. It shocked her that she managed to put so much hostility into her voice. "I mean it, Blake, _don't you dare hurt her_. You're horrible, you know that?" A look of surprise and confusion came over his face.

"Whoa. Hey." He held his hands up in defense, shock on his face. He looked directly into her eyes. Clarke felt like he was staring into her soul. "I don't want to hurt her. What are you talking about?" Clarke froze, her mind and face going completely blank. If he wasn't talking about hurting Charlotte, then why was he talking about her? Why did he bring her up?

"Wait. What are _you_ talking about?" she pressed. "You just threatened her and no-"

"No!" he said quickly, shaking his head violently. Things seemed to click for him. "No. I wasn't threatening her. I said I'm impressed by _you,_ Clarke, because of what you did for Charlotte."

Maybe it was because this was the first time he said her name, or maybe it was because he had completely thrown her for a loop, but she stumbled a step back.

"What?" She still wasn't understanding him properly. She could've sworn he said that he was impressed by her. He licked his lips and scrunched up his nose in thought. She hadn't ever seen him looking so vulnerable before. Although, considering she had seen him a total of three times so far, it wasn't that impressive.

"What you're doing for Charlotte – caring for her, training her, protecting her – it's... _admirable_." He seemed to struggle to say that word, but he forced it out none the less. The more he talked, the more awkward he looked. He obviously wasn't very comfortable being vulnerable and admitting his thoughts. "You're showing her compassion that nobody else did."

"Including yourself," she countered. He never stepped up to the plate to help mentor her. Charlotte was sitting all alone, completely lost when she showed up. If he was so concerned in her, why didn't he offer to help? "Why the sudden interest?"

"I've always kept my eye on her," he said slowly. "I've always been interested in protecting her." Once again, he surprised her with his words. She pressed her lips tightly together as she considered what he just said.

"Why? Why do you care?" That question left him in silence. They stared at each other for a long moment.

As he continued to think, she observed him. It was interesting to see him looking a little open and a little confused. She never would've thought the great Bellamy Blake would look so _human_ after how crude he was on the elevator. He looked different too, now that he was out of his costume and in more comfortable clothes. He looked more at home among the weapons and with a real sword in his hand, which wasn't surprising for a Career. His hair had been wet at the tribute parade, and she realized with a start just how curly it actually was. She was also surprised by how _warm_ his eyes used to seem.

She shook herself.

He was a Career. He couldn't be warm.

After a long moment, he nodded his head.

"She reminds me of my sister," he finally said. With everything that he had said before, she hadn't been sure if he was telling the truth. With this though? She could tell he was telling the truth, purely based on how much he struggled to admit that. "She's too young to be here. Too small."

"I agree," Clarke decided on saying. Although, she didn't see how Octavia could be too young or small to be in the Games – she was one of the fiercest competitors this year. She didn't pay attention to how old she was during the reaping, but she couldn't have been too young. "She's too innocent – it's unfair for her to be here." Bellamy's face fell for the slightest second.

"Gods, I couldn't imagine O coming to compete when she was only twelve." He rubbed his face, almost as if the erase the thoughts in his head. "I still can't imagine it's happening now." She wasn't too sure how to respond, so she stayed silent. It's not like she felt much sympathy for Octavia – she had volunteered to be here, after all. "But that's exactly what I mean. She shouldn't be here. I've been trying to keep my eye on her and keep my distance, but it was getting hard. I'm thankful you came to help her."

"Why keep your distance?" she wondered out loud. It didn't make sense. If he wanted to protect her, he should've asked her to be an ally. "You could've gone up to her just as easily as I did." Bellamy gave her a hard look.

"If you haven't noticed, the other Careers and I aren't exactly _friends_ ," he muttered darkly. She could tell he was tense about the subject. "I didn't want to associate with her; it could've done her more harm than good." What was he talking about? At Clarke's questioning stare, he continued. "They're bloodthirsty this year."

"When are they not?" she countered. His lips twitched up at her comment. He looked kind when he smiled, which surprised Clarke. What world did she live in where a Career looked _kind?_ Especially if that Career was Bellamy Blake.

"Bloodthirsty for me," he clarified. Clarke's heart jolted to a stop. She instantly remembered how distant the Blakes looked from the other Careers. There was tension and hostility between them, no doubt. "They're looking for anything to use against me in the Games – any weaknesses, including a person. I wouldn't want to put her in that type of danger by just talking to me." She didn't know if she agreed, but she almost understood where he was coming from. She didn't want to put anyone in danger by talking to her either. Out of all of the tributes, she was the most dangerous. The Capitol wanted her dead specifically, and they were willing to hurt anyone around her that got in the way. "I'm just trying to say I'm glad you took her under your wing."

"Hm. Thanks." Clarke wasn't too sure what he was playing at. While she was sure he was telling the truth about his sister, she wasn't too sure why he would be so concerned about Charlotte. She was just another tribute; just another face in the masses that he would have to kill to win. Plus, he was being _friendly._ After their encounter in the elevator, she didn't think that was possible.

Then again, she caught him staring at her yesterday during training. He watched as she walked across the room when she went to talk to Charlotte. She seen how he held himself and how he trained. He was arrogant and proud, but there was something about him. It was the way he looked at Octavia when she accomplished something – so full of pride for his sister and gentleness. It was the way he watched as she walked towards Charlotte – confused and guarded.

He didn't fit the picture of a bloodthirsty Career like she tried to paint him to be. He was softer than that. Still, he was confident and cocky like the others, but there was something about him she couldn't put her finger on.

"I'm going to get back to training," she said. She didn't want to lose her thoughts to him again. What did it matter if he was a cruel Career or not? It wouldn't impact her. She gestured to the mannequin a few spaces away. Bellamy just nodded, but made no move to leave. She clenched her teeth and walked up to the mannequin, trying her best to ignore him.

She could feel his eyes on her back. Maybe she was just paranoid, or maybe it was because she knew he was standing there, but it felt like he was boring holes into her head. She had to fight the urge to turn and meet them.

She was confused. Who was he really? She thought she had him figured out by the reaping, but she convinced herself that she was wrong because of his actions in the elevator. He had been warm, but firm, at the reaping. He was confident, but not overly so. He was sure of his actions, but didn't hold that excitement to kill. He was conserved and calculated.

The elevator completely changed her opinion. He was rash and rude. He was arrogant and cocky. He still wasn't excited to be at the Games, but he wasn't reserved like he was on TV. He was like fire, lashing out at everyone close to him. While he had been a warrior on TV, he was merely a boy in the elevator. After that, she thought she figured him out.

He was a jerk.

Now? Now, he seemed to have thrown her for another loop. He wasn't a jerk like he was in the elevator. He wasn't cocky, but he was confident. He wasn't rude, but he was straightforward. He wasn't exactly welcoming, but he was friendly and warm.

She knew this was the Games, but she didn't expect him to be playing them so well.

 _Who was the real Bellamy Blake?_

Clarke pressed her lips together tightly. He was so infuriating. Why couldn't he be himself to her – at least once? It would stop her mind from spinning to try and figure him out. Why did he seem to have a million different masks that he could wear so easily?

She swung her sword, anger flowing through her once more. Like last time, her sword tip sliced through the front of the mannequin. She let a small smile into her face as pride filled her. She was getting better. They had a chance.

"You're too emotional." Bellamy's voice broke her concentration. She froze and cocked her eyebrow. She spun slowly around to face him, a frown on her lips.

" _Excuse me_?" Did he just call her emotional? Okay, maybe he _was_ a jerk.

"I was taught to never use emotions while fighting," he said, quickly explaining himself. Some of Clarke's anger disappeared with his words. "You're angry when you swing. I can see it in your stance. You're not thinking when you attack… you just attack." Clarke narrowed her eyes.

Who was he to tell her what to do? She reminded herself that he was a Career; he had trained for years to fight. Why would she deny free advice, especially in an area she lacked? While she didn't trust him, she could at least listen to what he had to say and make her own judgment.

Plus, he was good. He could tell she was letting anger control her swings just by watching her for a minute. If he could do that, what else could he do?

"Fine." Her voice was tense. "How do I fix that?" At her invitation to help, he stepped towards her. She stood her ground this time as he came near her. He held out his sword in front of his body and adjusted his posture.

"Once you find a balance with your body, you won't think about what you're doing. Once you stop thinking, you don't swing with emotion. You just swing." He seemed to know what he was talking about, but she was hesitant. Did she even trust him enough to show her how to fight?

She thought back to Raven, Monty and Charlotte. The four of them were defenseless. They wouldn't last too long if one of them didn't figure out how to fight.

She steeled her nerves and put her reservations to the back of her mind. She put the alliance together and it would be up to her to make sure they were prepared.

She would have to trust Bellamy with this. She would have to trust that he wouldn't be leading her down the wrong path. She had to trust he had good intentions.

 _She would have to trust a Career._ Somehow, that thought didn't scare her as much as it should have.

"Balance. Got it." She didn't really understand what he was getting at, but she went along with it.

"Alright. Let's start with the basics of balance. Your stance is almost there, but you're too stiff. You need to be more fluid. What happens if someone strikes you and your feet are rooted to the ground?" She didn't answer, but she got the point. She would fall over and die. "Try to stand like this."

He set his sword on the ground, but kept his arm in the ready position. She studied how he held his body closely, trying to take in every detail. His feet were wide apart, his hips pointing towards the easiest exit. His knees were slightly bent, shifting her weight lower to the ground. One foot was pointing towards the mannequin, while the other pointed in 90 degrees away.

"You want to be firm and low to the ground, but ready to run at any second." He sidestepped quickly, jumping out of the way of an imaginary attack. Before she realized what was happening, he had fallen back into the ready position a few feet away. He moved with such agility and grace. She had to admit, she was impressed. Bellamy relaxed his arms and straightened his posture, turning to her. "Did you want to try?"

She tried to mimic his position, but it was almost impossible. It looked so natural and easy for him to stand like he was ready to bolt away at any moment, but also be solid enough to fight in an attack. Even when she managed to match him stationary, she couldn't match how he moved out of the way of a strike. She would either trip on her own feet, or not move fast enough. Her movements were choppy and messy.

After the sixth try, she groaned and slumped her shoulders.

"This isn't fair," she grumbled, brushing some of the blonde hair from her eyes. "You've trained for years." Bellamy laughed at that. While it wasn't a full laugh, the smile reached his eyes. Clarke felt the breath get sucked from her lungs at that. It was the first time she had seen him smile that widely.

Once again, she was reminded that they were all just teenagers. While he was a Career, he was also a person. He wasn't just a trained killer; he was a brother and a son. He breathed the same air she did and lived a life before the Games, just like her. Was it really fair to judge people based on the districts they were from? Was it fair to judge Bellamy based on being a Career?

No.

The thought hit her harder than she expected. Kane told her to stay away from the Careers for her safety, but that wasn't fair. Not every tribute from a Career district was bloodthirsty. They weren't all dangerous.

She swallowed thickly. He was confusing her.

"No! You're doing good!" he insisted, a small smile still on his face. She studied his face for what felt like the first time. With her realization, he seemed different. She didn't see a Career when she looked at him, but she seen _him._ "It'll come when you get more practice, but you've got the idea." She shook herself mentally. She had to focus. He picked his sword off the ground again and she followed suit. "Next, work on your grip. You shouldn't be trying to choke the thing. Hold it like you're holding a bird."

That made absolutely no sense to her. She blamed it on the fact that she hadn't actually held a bird before. How did someone even hold a bird? He showed her his grip on the sword, drawing her from her thoughts. While her knuckles were white from clutching the leather so tightly, his were not. His grip was loose. If he wanted to, the hilt could swivel around in his grip easily.

"If I loosen my grip, the sword will fall," she told him. It was heavy and awkward. The only way she could keep it upright was by holding it like she was choking it.

"Then move your hand up the hilt." He reached towards her hand and she pulled back suddenly. He froze in his movements and his smile disappeared for a brief moment. Her heart thudded rapidly in her chest. Their eyes met. "I'm just going to help you adjust your grip. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. It's fine. Sorry." She let out the breath she was holding and released the tension in her shoulders. She stepped toward him and held out her hand with the sword. He reached forward again, but she didn't jump back this time. The whole time, he kept his eyes locked on hers.

She was annoyed with herself for jumping away from him. It was obvious he wasn't going to hurt her. If he wanted to do that, he would've done it as soon as he got within swinging distance from her.

As soon as his fingers brushed against her knuckles, he broke eye contact. Her hand tingled from where he moved against it. There were only a handful of people that had touched her within the last year; him being one of them. Her skin still buzzed with each contact. It was weird, knowing that another human was right beside her after so many days of being alone. It was a foreign feeling, to have someone brush against her skin. _But it felt good too._ She felt human with those simple contacts.

His hands were warmer than she expected. They were worn from years of using weapons, but they weren't rough. They nudged her hands up the handle by a few inches. When he was satisfied, he pulled away. She examined his face closely. His expression was unreadable.

"Good. Now, loosen your grip." She did as she was told, pulling her eyes away from his. She expected the sword to plummet to the ground when she loosened her grip, but it didn't. In fact, it was easier to hold now than before. The tip of the sword didn't dip towards the floor and her arms didn't shake from the effort. "How is it?"

"Really good, actually," she admitted. She couldn't help but let a smile cross her face. She tried to suppress it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bellamy doing the same.

"You have to find that sweet point on the sword. You don't want to go too far up, or else you'll get a terrible swing. You don't want to go too far down, or you'll struggle to swing at all. It's all about balance." Clarke was impressed with how well he was explaining things. She never really thought of sword fighting as an art, but he gave her a different opinion.

"Balance. Got it." She could tell that he knew what he was talking about since he managed to help her without trying too hard. She wondered if she would be able to replicate her hand positioning on the sword without him there to guide her. She hoped so. When it came down to it, he wouldn't be at her side.

"You also can't be afraid of the blade," he added. "You're holding if like it will kill you."

"Well, it can," she said. Even though she was serious, she couldn't help but sound teasing. Bellamy smiled at her tone. It felt odd to even think, but _she liked his smile._ It made him look like the teenager he was and like the weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders.

"I know, but you've got to treat it like you own it, not the other way around. Control the blade. Don't let it control you." She nodded her head slowly. He was very passionate about sword combat clearly, and very knowledgeable. He must've spent his whole life training and practicing with it. Part of her wanted to know just how talented he was in a fight.

"Now, when you swing, you have to use your whole body – not just your arms. You should follow through."

He held his sword again and swung at the mannequin in front of them. Clarke examined his body as he demonstrated. He wouldn't just lift his arm to swing; he rotated his torsos, his shoulder, his hips, and even his legs. He shifted forward the slightest bit, propelling the blade. He was swift and fluid, making it look effortless. Clarke had to admit, it was impressive.

"Wow." The words slipped past her lips without thinking. When Bellamy turned around, a cocky smirk on his lips, that was when she realized what she said. "Uh. Wow. You're really good at that." She tried to make it sound like she wasn't complimenting him or how he looked when he swung a sword. Because… _she wasn't complimenting him_. No way. She was just impressed by how easy he made it look.

Plus, she barely even noticed how his lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows pushed together in concentration, or how his muscles flexed as he swung the sword. Nope. She didn't notice at all.

"I've had years of practice," he pointed out. He swung one more time before he turned back to Clarke. "You want to try?"

She nodded her head, suddenly nervous. While she had been okay with all of the skills separately, she was worried that she would fall flat on her face when she put it all together. Things were just happening so fast and her head was spinning trying to comprehend it all.

She gripped her sword loosely in her hands, satisfied when she easily found that same sweet spot as earlier. Her hand felt slick, but she paused to wipe it onto her pant leg. She got into the slightly crouched position he taught her earlier with only minor pointers from Bellamy. After she was crouched properly and felt balanced, she paused. She sucked in a deep breath and locked her eyes on the target in front of her.

Then, she lunged forward, swinging her arm. She rotated her shoulders and body with the swing, attempting to replicate Bellamy's movements. Her body felt stiff and slow as she moved, like she was moving through water. She stumbled as she rushed forward, her foot getting caught behind her own heel. Before she could get too off balance, she righted herself and followed through the swing. She hit the mannequin, but it was nowhere near what Bellamy's cut looked like. Hers was jagged and uneven, while his was smooth and continuous.

"Good!" he praised. She straightened her posture as she examined the training mannequin. "You just have to do it all at once more. You're a little choppy and unsure about yourself, but keep at it. Be confident that you can do it, and it'll come eventually. And…" He took one step towards her before freezing. They locked eyes. "Can I show you something? I'll have touch you." She nodded her head.

"Sure." She tried to stay nonchalant, but her mind was buzzing. She could feel her skin tingling in anticipation of his touch and _that terrified her._

 _It was Bellamy Blake_. A Career. A trained killer. The man from the elevator that had been on her mind for the last several days.

It was terrifying for him to be beside her.

No, she wasn't scared of him, but she was scared about how she felt.

She knew she should've been more worried. He was a Career, trained specifically for the Games. She knew he was dangerous. She knew she should've been more panicked that he was going to be right beside her with a sword. But, she didn't feel scared. There was a lingering worry, sure, but she felt the same way with Raven and Monty. That worry didn't stem from him being a Career, but it came from the fact they were all going to be fighting each other for survival.

Not being terrified scared her the more than anything.

She was scared of the other Careers, so why wasn't she scared of Bellamy? Her lack of hesitation confused her. Shouldn't she be worried? Shouldn't she be more hesitant?

She knew what Kane would tell her; _yes._ He would tell her to run away from him and never look back. He would remind her just how dangerous the Careers were; they were bloodthirsty, ruthless, and untrustworthy. He would tell her she should be terrified of them.

But there was something about him that made her think differently.

Bellamy walked up behind her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Her skin felt like it was on fire with his touch. She tried to keep the goose bumps from rising on her arms. His other hand rested on her forearm of the arm that clutched the sword. She could feel his breath beside her face. She swallowed thickly, already thrown from how close he was to her.

"Okay. We'll move slowly." He guided her hand with the sword back and they fell into the ready position. She could feel the warmth from his body along her back and feel his breath against her cheek. It took all of her energy to focus on the task at hand. She blinked several times, trying to put Bellamy out of her thoughts.

Then, he swung the sword. At the same time the sword swung, he tugged lightly on her opposite shoulder, urging her body to follow through. As she moved her shoulder, her body seemed to move naturally. Her hips turned, and her legs shifted forward. The sword rushed past the front of her body, finally coming to rest when it was inches away from her opposite hip.

When she looked at the practice mannequin, she was stunned. She had just replicated Bellamy's swing. It was still jagged, but it was worlds better than when she swung on her own.

"Look!" she exclaimed, turning around in Bellamy's arms excitedly. He had a dazed look on his face. When he seen her excitement, he reciprocated instantly. He dropped his arms from around her body and buried his hands in his pockets.

"Nice. That's really good, Clarke." He pulled away from her completely and took a few steps back. She was reluctant to admit to herself that she already missed the heat from his body. It felt good to be in contact with someone. "Why don't you practice that a bit more by yourself. You've almost got it." Clarke took a few more steps away from Bellamy to try and clear her head. She needed to focus.

As she swung repeatedly at the mannequin, she tried to control her racing heart. There was something about Bellamy Blake that made her heart race and her palms sweat. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she knew it wasn't because she was nervous about having to compete against him. It wasn't because she didn't trust him. It wasn't because he was a trained killer. She couldn't place her finger on it exactly.

When she finally swung a straight cut on her own, she beamed a smile at Bellamy.

"You know, Bellamy, you're a really good teacher," she pointed out. While she had been teasing, it was true. Without him, she wouldn't have been able to do that in her lifetime. He smiled softly.

"Thanks." For the first time Clarke had seen, he looked shy, for lack of better words. She returned his smile. "You're doing really well," he added. They locked eyes once again.

For the first time, she could see him. _Truly him._ He wasn't the big brother that he was during the reaping, he wasn't the jerk from the elevator, and he wasn't even the Roman gladiator from the tribute parade.

He looked human. He looked vulnerable. He was blushing and slightly awkward in that moment – just like any other human. He wasn't invincible. _He was human_.

Just standing there, allowing herself to smile and throw caution to the wind made her feel human too.

 _Humanity is good_ , she decided. _And so is Bellamy Blake._

* * *

 **A/N: Finally, Bellamy and Clarke are interacting. It was painful to take so long to get them to interact. I could never write a slow burn haha. Now, there will be a lot of interactions between Bellamy and Clarke up until the end of the fic. I'm so happy about this.**

 **The scene of Bellamy teaching Clarke how to fight was directly inspired from the show. In episode 8 of season 1, Bellamy teaches Clarke how to shoot. Similarly, he was the one thrown by the intimacy of her being so close to him, which inspired the title of this chapter.**

 **Announcement: I recently posted a one-shot of Bellamy and Clarke called "And It Has Pockets." It is a modern AU and super fluffy. (And Clarke buys a wedding dress.) If you'd like to check it out, you can find it through my profile.**

 **Thanks for all of the reviews, favourites, and follows. It's an absolutely amazing feeling that there are people out there that enjoy what I write. Thanks for all of the support. It truly inspires me and motivates me to get these chapters out as quickly and consistently as possible.**

 **Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I remember having so much fun writing it! I'm so happy we're now at the point of the fic!**

 **See you next week!**

 **Paw**


	9. Chapter 9: Two Sides of the Same Coin

**A/N: This chapter was lots of fun to write! I keep saying this, but I'm super excited that Clarke and Bellamy are interacting now!**

 **Warnings: just a reminder that this fic contains violence (canon-typical to The Hunger Games and The 100). As each chapter progresses, there will be more and more violence leading up to the Games. Please be aware of this. This fic is rated** ** _Teen_** **for that reason. Also, please note, there is coarse language used in this chapter.**

 **A side note that I never mentioned last chapter (when I was meaning to).** I have no idea what I'm talking about for most of this chapter (and last). I have no knowledge about any of the skills learned (including knot tying, camouflage, knife throwing, shelter building, sword fighting, hand to hand combat, etc).

This is especially prevalent in the past chapter with Bellamy teaching Clarke how to fight. I _fully admit_ that what I wrote is 100% made up. I have no experience in that area. I didn't research it. I just took my best guess at what sounded okay. If you have any knowledge in these subject areas, I'm so sorry. It's not accurate at all.

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Two Sides of the Same Coin**

* * *

She couldn't help but feel like she was in the right place as she stood with Bellamy on the training platform. Not only had he helped her immensely with learning how to fight, but he also made her feel human again – something she hadn't felt in almost a year.

Who would've thought that she would have to be brought to close to death to be able to find that piece of herself again?

He had showed her several other moves with the sword after she began to understand the basics. He taught her defensive and offensive patterns of attack, although she was having a hard time remembering them. It helped that they reminded her of dancing – something that she used to do when she was younger back at home. Fighting was just one big dance.

"Never let your opponent out of sight," Bellamy cautioned. "They'll use your confusion to their advantage and you won't be able to see when their strike is coming for you." She nodded. What he was saying made sense. Maybe she was getting a hand of it. "Always keep your eyes open. Even if you think your back is safe, don't rely on that. Your back is one of the most vulnerable parts of you during a fight. You can never know for sure if they have allies waiting to attack from behind."

"Good point."

"And always try to get to _their_ backs. Just like you, they don't have eyes back there." She couldn't help but snort at his way of describing things. He had an interesting personality. "They won't be able to see what you're doing. _Always_ use any weakness to your advantage."

"Their Achilles heel," Clarke muttered to herself. She remembered reading the ancient myths and stories from Greece and Rome while in lock-up. There wasn't a whole lot that was saved during the Dark Days or from before Panem, but whatever was saved, she devoured. It was a lonely year, and the poems from classical times made the time pass quickly.

At hearing Clarke's words, Bellamy froze. He tilted his head to the side and locked eyes with her.

"What did you say?"

"Achilles heel." She felt her cheeks heat up slightly. Of course, he heard her. She must've sounded pretty lame mentioning something from school. "It's someone's weak point. It makes them vulnerable." Bellamy let out a low chuckle and shook his head.

"I know." A grin lifted his lips. "I used to read Greek and Roman mythology to Octavia all the time. They were the only things to keep her entertained some days."

They both smiled and Clarke felt something pass through her. Maybe it was because this was the first meaningful interaction she had in almost a year, or maybe it was something else, but she felt _good._

Something so small had connected them – two teenagers from different sides Panem. While she had felt entirely alone in prison, she had been reading the same words as the man in front of her. Their eyes could've read the same words at the same time, even if it was unlikely. The fact that someone else had been reading the same books as her made her time in lock-up feel a little less lonely.

"Well, that's exactly what I'm going for," Bellamy said, shaking his head. "Use their Achilles heel against them. They won't hesitate to find yours and use it. Do the same to them." She nodded in understanding. "Always keep your eyes out for their weaknesses, especially in a fight." She nodded again. "I-"

 _"_ _BLAKE!"_

Bellamy's mouth clamped and he flashed a look of caution towards Clarke. His eyes screamed for her to stay silent. She nodded her head the slightest bit, letting him know she understood. His face fell easily into a mask, completely shutting her off from him. She swallowed thickly and tried to calm her racing heart.

This time, she knew her heart wasn't racing because of how close he stood to her. It was racing because of who had just shouted his name.

Walking up the steps to the stage were the four other Careers. She gripped her sword tightly in her hands until her knuckles turned white. Her heart seemed to stop altogether and her stomach clenched painfully. Her throat felt thick and dry.

While she wasn't frightened by Bellamy, the same couldn't have been said about the Careers. Bellamy offered to help her train and had connected with her about Charlotte and mythology. He seemed to understand her on some level. The other Careers were ruthless and bloodthirsty. She seen them at the tribute parade and at their reapings; they weren't here to _play_ the Games. _They were here to win._

Still, she held herself tall and tried to compose herself. Her shoulders were thrown back and her chin lifted slightly. She tried to push away her unease and nervousness; she didn't doubt that they would be able to sense it in her. She reminded herself of the words Kane told her – be calm, be confident, be friendly.

She also remembered his other words. _At all costs, stay away from the Careers_. It was too late for that. She would just have to stand her ground.

There didn't seem to be a clear leader in the Career pack. Each of them held themselves with an obnoxious amount of pride. It made Clarke want to cringe with how proud they were. She could tell that they viewed themselves as superior to all of the other tributes present, putting her more off. That, paired with their sneers caused Clarke to feel her heart rate pick up for a very different reason than before.

"What?" Bellamy's voice was low and dangerous, sending a dead chill over her. Clarke was shocked. Bellamy had completely flipped around from when he spoke to her. While he was warm and compassionate towards her over the last few hours, he was the complete opposite to the Careers. He reminded her of the guy on the elevator. _He was cold, distant, uncaring, and harsh._

"What a _warm_ welcome," one of the guys said sarcastically. Clarke recognized him from District 4, but she struggled with his name. He was tall and had his hair pushed back into a partial bun on the top of his head. His face was twisted into a sneer, which seemed to be one of his only expressions.

"Yeah, _ouch,_ Blake. We only came to talk," the other guy spoke. He didn't seem to be as harsh as the rest, but he still held a certain ferocity. He was much larger than the first guy, both in height and muscle. Just like the first male that spoke, his hair was pulled away from his face, but it sat in a ponytail at the back of his head. His voice was gruff, sending a wave a fear through her.

"Yeah, where's your little sister?" She had scars across her face and death in her eyes. Clarke remembered her name from the reapings – she couldn't forget it. Ontari. Bellamy's fist clenched at the reference to Octavia. She could see the muscles in his jaw jump as he tried to restrain himself.

The Careers brought up a good point though. Where was the youngest Blake? She couldn't imagine Bellamy would leave her all alone while he trained with her for hours. She wanted to take a quick glance around the arena, but she held her eyes on the Careers instead.

"Why are you here?" His voice held no room for questions. It was amazing to see just how terrifying Bellamy could be if he wanted to. She was reminded again that he was a Career, just like those in front of them. He was trained to kill.

"We're giving you another chance. You can still be welcomed among us. _Where you belong_." Ontari's eyes flicked to Clarke's and she sneered as she spoke. She got the impression that she was implying he was too good to be hanging out with someone from an outer district. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"No." His answer was short and simple. "I've it said before. _Not interested_. That's not going to change." Clarke looked at the rest of the group, trying her best to gauge their reactions. The two men glanced at each other, clearly not impressed by Bellamy's answer. Ontari's eyes darkened and her fists clenched her her side. Clarke's eyes landed on the girl that hadn't said anything yet. She had wild curly red hair and striking eyes. She looked extremely uncomfortable with the situation, but didn't speak.

Ontario's stare moved from Bellamy to Clarke. She smiled sweetly and her eyes softened.

"Well, that's no matter." She dismissed Bellamy easily. She was a hunter looking for their next prey. "We also came by to say hello to your new… _friend_." Clarke's heart jumped from fright as the Careers turned to face her. She didn't want to stand out to the Careers. She just wanted to help her alliance survive as long as possible. She didn't want to be making enemies.

Maybe _this_ was what Bellamy was referring to when he said he didn't want to associate himself with Charlotte. Just by standing with him, the Careers had their eyes on her. By interacting with him, she became their next target. She couldn't imagine what they would do to Charlotte in the arena just for talking to Bellamy.

 _She still didn't understand why._ What was so special about Bellamy? Why wasn't he in the Career pack? Why were the Careers targeting him?

Ontari walked up to her and stuck her hand out. Clarke's heart hammered in her chest, but she kept her face blank. She reached for her hand.

The other girl gripped it tightly in hers. It was cold and calloused – everything Bellamy's wasn't. Her nails dug into her skin and she yanked her towards herself. Clarke was instantly thrown off balance, making her stumble a few steps forward. It seemed to be exactly what she wanted, as she gripped Clarke's shoulder to keep her in place. Their noses were almost touching.

" _Hey_!" She heard Bellamy swear at Ontari and made a move towards her. The Career held up her hand, almost saying wait. She heard Bellamy's footfalls freeze.

" _I know what you're doing_ ," she hissed lowly. She doubted Bellamy could hear what she was saying. "Stay away from him – _or else,_ 6\. He's ours." Clarke wasn't too sure what she meant by that, but before she could reply, she was shoved away. She stumbled back a step again, bumping right into Bellamy. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.

 _Thank the gods._ Without him, she would've fallen backwards, which would've been fairly embarrassing. She wasn't even in the arena and she couldn't stay upright. That would lose her some sponsors.

Clarke wanted to punch Ontari right in the face. Her hand twitched at her side, balling up into a fist. It took everything in her to keep from lunging forward at the Career. It took even more effort to keep her face blank and emotionless. She hoped that her mask didn't slip off too much when she almost fell backwards.

The Careers had begun to walk away by the time Clarke had steadied herself. Her heart was still racing in her chest and she felt like the world around her was moving too quickly.

She wondered what Ontari meant by she knew what she was doing? How could that be true if Clarke didn't even know what she was doing herself? _What was she doing?_

"Say hi to Octavia for us!" she called over her shoulder. She could feel Bellamy stiffen beside her. The male from District 4 snickered at Ontati's comment. They took the stairs off the platform, talking amongst each other. Just as they were almost out of hearing range, Ontari turned back and smiled sweetly at her. It made Clarke sick.

"Are you okay?" Bellamy questioned once they were gone and out of earshot. Clarke nodded her head slowly, feeling numb. She wasn't hurt, just shaken. They took her by surprise, and Ontari's words chilled her. She never expected to interact with the Careers, never mind be targeted by them. _Never mind be threatened by them._

"Let's get somewhere where we aren't watched," he said, glancing around the training room critically. He turned and left the stage with Clarke following him. They made their way around the sword training area, headed for the benches near the back wall. They were blocked from the rest of the tributes by the stage of the fighting arena, giving them as much privacy as they could get in the Capitol.

"What did she say?" Bellamy sat down on the bench. She rolled her wrist around several times, trying to relax it. Ontari has pulled it sharply. While it didn't hurt, it wasn't comfortable either. She sat down beside him, still holding her wrist gingerly.

"Nothing important," she said dismissively. Bellamy stared at her blankly, clearly not accepting her answer. "She just told me to stay away from you because you're theirs." He groaned and pressed his hand into his face. "What was that about?" Clarke pressed. She needed answers. What was going on with the Career pack? Why were they so desperate for Bellamy to be in their pack?

"It's like I said; they want me to join the pack. They're willing to do anything to get Octavia and I on their side. District 2 _always_ joins the pack – I guess it's tradition – but I'm not interested this year. They're just going to get in my way. I don't want to get involved with their hunting and their games. _I just want to survive._ " He pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked in a breath. "And she thinks I'm joining your alliance instead, by the sounds of it." While he was processing the information, Clarke's mind was working quickly.

He was a decent guy. She still didn't completely trust him – how could she; she barely knew him – but she felt that changing very quickly. _It scared her_. She was told multiple times to stay away from the Careers. She was told they were dangerous, uncaring, and untrustworthy.

She knew she shouldn't, but she felt herself letting him in. It scared her more than she thought it would. The fact that she was trusting someone that she was warned about chilled her. She knew how dangerous he could be, but she wasn't putting up walls around him. _She was starting to let him in._ She was terrified.

Yet, she felt a certain calm at the same time. He wasn't like what she imagined. He wasn't the jerk and uncaring person from the elevator. He wasn't the cocky boy from the training centre yesterday. He wasn't just a big brother either, like she thought in the reaping. _He was so much more than what he appeared._ He had multiple layers under all the masks he wore.

He was kind – how else would he offer to help train a complete stranger? He was funny, more so than she imagined a Career to be. He was compassionate, as shown with his care about Charlotte. He was understanding – he had put with her trying to learn how to fight, which was difficult. He was strong, both physically and mentally. He didn't just take the easiest path – which would have been joining the Careers – he did what he thought was best and was not sorry for it. He was strong willed and unapologetic about it.

And, somehow between it all, Clarke felt like she could trust him – or, at least allow herself to _begin_ to trust him. While he could've been playing into a bigger plan, he felt authentic to her, which was a quality hard to come by in the Games. _And she felt herself following him_ – she wasn't putting on a show. She was truly herself the whole time she was with Bellamy.

"Well… Do you want to?" she asked suddenly, speaking before she could change her mind. He looked up, confused. His eyebrows were pushed together, creasing his forehead.

"What?"

"Be in my alliance," she clarified. She couldn't believe she was saying these words. "Of course, your sister is welcome too. It's Raven, Monty, Charlotte and I right now." Words kept tumbling from her mouth faster than she could think. She clamped her mouth shut before she said any more.

He didn't say anything for a long moment. He just stared intently at the floor, his lips slightly parted, and his hands fidgeting together.

Clarke debated with herself. Should she say anything more?

She remembered what Kane told her. _Don't trust Careers_.

She decided to keep quiet. She already broke Kane's rule by letting him train her. She basically demolished the rule by asking him to join their alliance. _He was going to be furious with her when he found out a Career was joining._

She pushed that thought out of her mind, choosing instead to focus on Bellamy. After a moment, he turned to her. His eyes bore into hers.

"I'll pass," he finally said. Clarke didn't know if she felt relief or disappointment. She brushed it off. "Octavia and I do well on our own. I don't want to complicate anything by introducing more people. The more people there are, the harder these Games get."

"Okay."

Part of her was relieved that he said no. She wasn't sure how her other allies would feel about him, and she wasn't sure if she should trust him in the first place.

On the other hand, she was disappointed. They really needed someone good with weapons to be in their alliance. He was brilliant at fighting and teaching – he seemed like he would've been a good fit.

They were silent for a long moment. She considered getting up to leave, or saying something to break the silence, but the air had turned so thick that she didn't want to break it.

"Clarke." He broke the silence first. She looked at him without saying anything. He looked lost in thought. "I'm going to… _trust you_ here, alright?" Clarke didn't respond again, allowing Bellamy to talk freely. She felt like, sometimes, when you were admitting or doing something difficult, it was easier to do so with someone just _listening_ not responding. By the way he was looking, it seemed like he was in that situation. "I'm here for Octavia." He looked conflicted as he said that. She smiled, fighting to keep from laughing.

"That is pretty obvious," she pointed out. It was obvious the Blake siblings cared so much about each other. She didn't expect either of them to abandon each other any time during the Games.

"No. I mean, I'm _only_ here for her." Clarke fell silent at that. "I am here to protect her. That's the reason why I'm here – why I volunteered." Her heart stopped as she realized the reality of his words.

He was only there to protect Octavia. He wasn't competing to win; he never had any plans to beat his sister at this game. He wasn't competing and taking the spot as victor over his sister. _He was only here for her_.

 _He was here to die._

Clarke swallowed thickly as she realized exactly what he was admitting to. He didn't plan to come out of the arena either, just like her.

"I understand." Their voices had dropped so low that she had to strain to hear him speak. She understood why he wouldn't be promoting the fact that he didn't plan to win. If sponsors knew he wasn't fighting to become victor, they wouldn't support him. He had to play the role of a power hungry tribute.

Suddenly, she felt like she understood him better.

He was never here to win. He was only here to make sure _she_ survived.

"We work better alone," he explained. "She's my priority, and I'll be dammed if I put her in jeopardy." He glanced at her with a slight grimace. "No offence. I was always told not to trust people in the Games; that people will be your downfall. I don't want to put my sister in harms way. Not with you, not with anybody." She nodded her head. She didn't feel offended at all by what he said. In fact, she understood exactly. Letting people in during the Games was risking everything. she She felt relieved, in a way; he felt exactly how she felt when it came to trusting others.

"I get it, Bellamy," she said softly.

And it was true. _She did understand_.

He was there for someone he loved – just like her. In some strange way, she was there because she loved her dad and she loved her people. They both weren't there because of luck. They made their choices that led them to the Games.

Even though they were from opposite ends of the country, she felt like she understood him well. They were similar, like two faces to one coin. Like the head and the heart.

"Clarke!" She was jolted out of her thoughts. Wells rounded the corner, disbelief in his face. His hands curled into fists at his side. "Clarke, _what are you doing_?"

His face was twisted into anger as he stalked up to where she sat with Bellamy. His eyes flashed with rage as he glanced over Bellamy and he crossed his arms. Clarke could see Bellamy puff out his chest and make his features relax. Wells walked right up to her and positioned himself between her and Bellamy. Clarke stood up from the bench and crossed her arms to match his.

"I was talking." She glared at him. Who did he think he was to be asking her questions. They weren't allies. They weren't friends. He was just another tribute she tried to avoid. Sure, she was _trying_ to work on forgiving him and involving him in her life more, but he was making it difficult. It seemed like every time she took a step towards forgiving him, he would do something to get on her nerves. _Like questioning her choices_. She could sense Bellamy stand up behind her. "What are _you_ do-"

"You heard what Kane said." His lips pressed together and his jaw was clenched, showing just how frustrated he was. She had known him for their whole lives – she knew that he didn't get this frustrated over anything.

He didn't elaborate with his sentence, but she understood what he was saying. Kane told them to stay safe and away from the Careers. _She completely abandoned that piece of advice._ Bellamy was a Career. Careers were dangerous. She was supposed to stay away at all costs.

 _That_ wasn't happening. While she was terrified about Ontari and the others in the Career pack, Bellamy wasn't like that. She felt some part of her _pushing_ her to trust him, against all of her logic and all advice given to her.

"Wells, you're-" He wasn't listening to a word she said. While she spoke, he had turned to face Bellamy, a dangerous look on his face. She saw his eyes glint.

There was only one other time in her memory that he looked as dangerous as he did in that moment. It was when they were back in school, and Wells was defending a student from some bullies. When it came to the safety of others, he was quick to jump in and protect them.

 _But she didn't need protecting._

"Stay away from her," he spat. His voice was cool and controlled, which terrified her even more. "Stay away from all of us."

"Wells!" Clarke snapped, stepping forward. "That's enough." He still wasn't listening to her, having his eyes trained on the Career behind her. Bellamy had returned his glare.

"I think Clarke can make decisions for herself," he pointed out, his eyebrow lifting. His words weren't harsh, but they still seemed to be a slap in the face for Wells. His eyes widened and he huffed. "Plus, I don't remember you being part of her alliance. Who are you to say?" Wells sputtered at that, his chest puffing out.

"Me? I'm her best friend! _Who are you to-_ "

"Enough." Clarke poked his arm, drawing his attention back to her. His eyes snapped back on hers, his expression softening. "Bellamy is right, Wells. I make choices for myself." He stared at her, betrayal in his eyes. "And you _were_ my best friend." Words hung in the air, the unspoken implication hanging heavily between them.

' _You were my best friend, until you got my father killed._ '

She turned to Bellamy, relieved to see that his expression had softened too. Wells always seemed to be causing drama with anyone she spoke to at the Games; Raven, Monty and Murphy at the tribute parade and now Bellamy. She just hoped Bellamy wouldn't hold it against her that her district partner was frustrating. She hoped he didn't regret teaching her to fight, just because of how it ended.

"Thanks for helping me. I had fun." If she hadn't been staring at his face for the last few hours, she would've missed the faint smile he gave her. It was a ghost of one, gone much too quick before it could reach his eyes. _But it was there._

"Same. Nice seeing you again, princess." With that, he turned to leave. The nickname he gave her on the elevator infuriated her, but, somehow, she wasn't too bothered with it then. Maybe it was because he didn't say it mockingly like he once did. Instead, he sounded almost gentle, which was a strange thought. _Who would have thought that a Career like Bellamy could have a gentleness inside of them?_

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Wells look flabbergasted. She guessed it was because of Bellamy's choice of words. She wondered if he said _again_ just to cause a reaction. _She wouldn't put it past him._ When Bellamy had left her eyesight, she rounded in Wells, all lightness gone from inside her.

"What the hell, Wells!?" She felt like she was saying that a lot over the last few days. He was causing more issues than she originally thought possible. "I can't believe you!"

"Me!? I can't believe _you_!" He shook his head in utter disbelief. "You're fraternizing with the enemy!" Clarke scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes. How childish could he be?

"Screw off." Her tone was sharp. She was just so _done._ She was exhausted from having to fight him on every decision she made, or having him try to be her friend. She needed time. She needed space. Both of which he wasn't giving. She turned to leave, but she could feel him following behind her. She clenched her jaw.

"Do you think Kane will be happy when he finds out who you've been talking to?" She didn't respond. Anger was slowly building up inside of her. "What about your mother? How do you think she feels to watch her daughter train with someone that wants to kill her?" Those words snapped something inside of her. She rounded around to face him, her breath caught in her lungs.

" _You_ don't get to talk to me about _my family_ ," she hissed dangerously low. At hearing Clarke's tone, Wells straightened up. She didn't often get harsh with him, not while they were growing up, anyways. _So much had changed since then._ "You gave up the right to talk about my family last year!"

Her voice was barely above a whisper in hopes that nobody would hear her. She stayed vague in case someone was listening. The Capitol made it clear to her that nobody could know about _why_ she was in lock-up. If they seen her talking about it with another tribute, in front of hundreds of cameras, she didn't doubt that they would silence her immediately.

"You aren't my friend. You aren't my ally. You're my district partner _and that's it_ , Wells. Stop trying to protect me, okay? Stop ruining alliances for me, got it? Plea-"

"You want an alliance _with him_?!" He had a sour look on his face, almost like he sucked on a lemon. "But… Clarke. He's. _Clarke._ " He sputtered over and over, not quite forming full thoughts of sentences. "Clarke, he's a Career. _A freaking Career._ And you want an alliance with him? Are you kidding me?"

She knew that he would go running to the higher authority – Kane – if she admitted she _did_ want to be in an alliance with Bellamy. She knew both of them would disapprove. Kane made it clear that he didn't trust Careers and didn't want to give them a chance. He already made his stance on the subject very clear. _And, there Wells was, making his stance clear too._

No Careers. No trust. No second chances.

She couldn't admit she just asked Bellamy to be in an alliance with her. She couldn't begin imagine how many hours Kane would lecture her about _trust_ and _Careers,_ like she didn't already understand the dangers. She knew it was risky. She knew it wasn't the safest or the smartest choice. _But it felt right._

"I'm talking about at the tribute parade," she lied quickly. "You practically sabotaged my whole alliance!" He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"You wouldn't want Murphy anyways. He's a snake." Clarke sighed, a wave of defeat rolling over her.

"That's your problem, Wells. You don't think of anything other than yourself, do you? You don't have a mind of your own! All you care about is pleasing your dad and following his choices. In this case, all you want to do is follow Kane's advice blindly." She crossed her arms. "You act like you can protect me, like you can make decisions for me. You gave all that up when…" She caught herself from saying anything more. With a sigh, she added, "Well, you gave it all up last year." She hoped cameras weren't listening in. _That was too close._ "Just leave me alone."

She stalked away, headed for where Raven, Month and Charlotte sat. As she walked, she tried to push all of her thoughts out of her head. This wasn't a game – she couldn't get distracted. Every second in the training centre had to be spent wisely, as a skill learned in there could be the difference between surviving and not.

She glanced around the training centre quickly, trying to take in all of the other tributes. At least, that was what she told herself. Really, her eyes searched for the messy hair of a certain Career. She tried to ignore the slightly twinge of disappointment when she didn't spot him anywhere.

She did see Octavia across the tribute centre. She held several knives in her hands and whipped them towards the targets moving in front of her. Clarke watched in awe as each knife hit the target perfectly.

Clarke was impressed with the youngest Blake. While she wasn't the oldest competitor or the biggest, she had skills that overpowered everyone else, even her brother. She had agility and sharpness that he seemed to lack. Compared to the other tributes, she lit up a little brighter. She was deadly and was one of the competitors to watch out for. If she could see the odds people were betting on, she didn't doubt that the youngest Blake would be surpassing all of them.

She didn't seem to be the only one watching her either. Clarke's eyes drifted over to the station over, where Lincoln sat crouched, completely infatuated with her every move. He seemed to be practicing how to string a bow, but clearly got distracted with Octavia's talents.

The bow string slipped from his grasp, slapping back to the top of the bow. She could see him flinch and his hand come up to nurse where the string smacked him across the face. Clarke couldn't hide her smile at that.

Her eyes turned back to her alliance, all frustrations and worries she had before completely forgotten. Charlotte was swinging her legs again, and Monty was busy trying to eat some food for lunch. Raven was the first to notice her. She bumped Monty's arm and gestured in her direction.

"Hey," she said as soon as she was close enough, her voice was soft and full of concern. Her eyebrows were pushed together and her hands kept fidgeting on the cloth of her shirt. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered, her voice a little tight. "Wells is just a jerk." She waved her hand, dismissing her thought. Raven looked confused at her answer and turned back to Monty. He looked just as confused and concerned as Raven did.

"We are talking about the District 2 male," Monty said slowly. Clarke furrowed her brow.

"Bellamy?"

"Sure?" Raven waved her hand. "His name isn't important, is it?" Before she could respond, she was talking again. "Are you okay?" Clarke nodded her head.

"I'm perfectly okay." She smiled to demonstrate that fact. She couldn't believe her allies were worried about her. "Bellamy's not like that," she added quickly.

She knew the stereotypes that went with the Careers – violent, unpredictable, dangerous, untrustworthy, out for blood. Kane had told her multiple times to stay away from them for those exact reasons. She knew Wells was worried because she kept going against that advice.

When the Games were on when she was younger, _those_ were the stereotypes passed around. _Oh, did you see District 1 today? Absolutely brutal, but what else do you expect from a Career?_ It was the general consensus outside of the Career districts; they were bloodthirsty and ruthless.

 _But he wasn't like that._ He didn't _want_ to be in these Games to win. He wasn't fighting for himself. He was here for his sister. He was there to protect another human, willingly sacrificing himself to do so. He didn't volunteer for selfish reasons like pride, or money, or honor, or fame. He volunteered to save the one thing that he loved most.

He wasn't bloodthirsty like the others. He just wanted to protect Octavia. Bellamy was a complicated guy, but, if there was one thing she knew about him, was that he wasn't like the other Careers.

"He's not like the other Careers," she insisted. Raven raised her eyebrow, clearly not impressed with Clarke's judgment.

"Or he's _exactly_ like the other Careers," she warned. "He could just be toying with you." Monty nodded in agreement.

"They love the Games, and they play them well. They've trained their whole life to be here. They're experts at killing, manipulating, and lying." Monty got up from his chair, moving to stand in solidarity with Raven. "They've practiced at convincing people they're harmless. Don't fall for it."

Clarke felt uneasy at Monty's words. Was Monty right?

She shook that thought out of her head. _Of course not_. He was a good person. She could sense he was being honest. He took time out of his day to teach her how to fight – the whole morning, actually. Plus, the other Careers hated him. He wasn't like them. He didn't belong to their pack and he didn't hold the same values as them. He wasn't there to win – he was there to protect others. _He wasn't like the other Careers._

"I don't trust him," Raven said simply. "I don't trust any of the Careers. They just want to play the Games and win. That's all they're here for, you know. They just want to win, whether it be to become rich or so they can be treated like kings when they return home, it's all they want." Clarke shook her head.

"He's not like that," she insisted again. She thought back to when Bellamy admitted the reason why he was here. Even though he didn't say it out loud, Clarke knew that he didn't believe he would be returning home. He gave up his life for his sister's. "He taught me how to fight," she said, changing the subject slightly. Raven and Monty looked shocked.

"He did?" Monty asked, excitement in his voice.

"Are you any good?" Clarke shrugged at Raven's question.

"It's hard to pick up something so fast, but I'm good enough," she said. Even that was a stretch. While she could hold a sword and swing it, the defensive and offensive patterns Bellamy taught her were still confusing. "If it came down to it, I could use it in a pinch."

"Well, let's just pretend we're in a pinch now and go do it!" Raven insisted, a bright smile on her face. Charlotte jumped up excitedly from her chair.

"I want to see you fight!" Charlotte was bouncing excitedly. Monty nodded in agreement. Before Clarke could protest, Raven and Charlotte were dragging her back over to the fighting stage once more. Instead of trying to fight them, she went along with it.

How bad could it be, showing them some of what Bellamy taught her? He was a good teacher. She could probably show them enough of the basics for them to use to survive.

As soon as they got to the fighting arena, Clarke picked up the sword and turned to Raven. "Grab one and I'll show you what to do." Raven arched her eyebrow, a silly expression coming on her face.

"Oh, no." She took a step backwards, heading towards the edge of the ring. "I envisioned _you_ doing the demonstrating and _us_ doing the watching." Clarke gaped at her. "Oh, come on. It'll be fun. Show off for us." She looked towards the side of the ring. "Perfect. You'll have a sparring partner."

The training assistant from the Capitol was walking up to the ring, obviously thinking she wanted to practice with him. Her heart jumped. _This wasn't a good idea._ All she had to do was either disarm him and she would win their duel, but that felt too daunting.

"Bu-"

"Do it!" Charlotte encouraged. "You were already good before District 2 helped you. I can't wait to see how much you improved." Clarke could think of a million reasons why this was a bad idea. She was choppy and not agile. Even though she was starting to understand how to fight, she wasn't sure if she would even be any good.

 _But she couldn't back down._ She knew sponsors would be watching from home. If they seen her walk away from a fight, they would think she was scared. _Which was exactly how she felt,_ but she couldn't show the sponsors that. If she wanted their support, she needed to convince them that she was worth it and ready for the Games.

 _No backing down now._

Clarke thought back Bellamy's lessons. His advice flowed through her quickly, and, within seconds, she was ready to fight.

 _Find the sweet spot_. She found the spot on the sword where it felt balanced. She gripped it tightly in her hands, afraid that it would slip out from her sweaty palms.

 _Keep the grip light_. She loosened her grip enough so the sword could move easily around. It felt just as strange as it did the first time she followed Bellamy's advice.

 _Get low_. She crouched her knees slightly and angled her body forward. She felt herself become more centred and more balanced, becoming unmovable for an attack.

 _Be prepared to run_. She positioned her feet so she could take off in either direction. She remembered how Bellamy moved quickly and agilely when he moved out of the way of an imaginary attack. When she practiced, she was choppy, but at least she could do it. Choppy was better than dead.

 _Don't be afraid_. She took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. She tried to calm her racing heart and slow her racing mind. She couldn't afford to get lost in thought. She remembered Bellamy told her to not _think,_ but just _do._

 _Watch your opponent_. She studied the man across from her. He was in full protection gear and held a dull blade. Clarke knew that if she got hit with it, it wouldn't kill her, but it would leave her with a bruise and most likely a scratch. That made her feel better, if only slightly. She wasn't too worried about getting injured. She just didn't want to look bad in front of other tributes, and especially not in front of sponsors. She couldn't afford to look untrained.

She noticed that he wasn't in the stance Bellamy taught her – his feet were too close together and his knees weren't bent. If he was lower to the ground, his weight wouldn't be able to shift around too much and he would be kept balanced.

Before she had time to think, the bell rang.

Clarke instantly ducked to the side, narrowly missing his blade. She felt the blade breeze past her face, making her heart fall to her stomach.

Her heart was hammering and her head was buzzing with adrenaline. Not only was she _very_ unprepared and undertrained, could barely hit a static target, never mind a moving one. And one that fought back? It was impossible. She was thankful that Bellamy had taught her defensive and offensive strategies, even if they were foggy and distant in her mind.

She stepped to the side again, trying to get behind his defenses. Bellamy told her to try to get behind them, since they wouldn't be able to see her. She could disarm him once he wasn't fighting back at her – or, at least, that was the theory. With every move she made, he spun around, never letting her out of her sight.

She swung her sword in a wide arc, allowing her body to follow through the motion. Their swords collided in the air, stealing the breath from her lungs. She could feel the vibrations through her arm, making it feel like jelly. She clenched her jaw, feeling her teeth cut into the side of her cheek. Fighting someone was even more difficult than she imagined.

She pulled back and side stepped again, missing his swing. She wasn't moving by thinking anymore, she was moving on pure instinct. She got into a pattern quickly. Step. Swing. Step. Swing. Step. Swing.

She could feel the sword slipping in her grip from her sweat. Her arm was growing tired quickly. Within a few minutes, she could barely lift the sword to meet his. _She was getting tired._

The assistant on the other hand, didn't look like he was tiring at all. He still had his feet too close and his legs straight, but he was constantly swinging. She couldn't get close enough to him to get his sword away.

 _Clarke had an idea._

Before she could think it through, she was already moving. She swung her sword upwards, colliding with his. She lifted her arm high in the air, extending her arm as far as it could go. Her muscles screamed in protest from holding a heavy object so far away from her side. Their arms were extended far over their heads, each wrestling to gain control.

While he was distracted with keeping her blade away, she continued moving. She stepped into his space, put her foot behind his, and pushed his body with her shoulder. She threw all of her weight into his front, trying her best to send him off balance. As he tried to stumble back to regain his footing, he tripped over her foot and fell to the training floor. He smacked the ground loudly.

She grinned widely, satisfied she managed to take down a much larger and more experienced fighter. _She did it. She won._ It was an impossible task, but she managed to do it.

Then, she went tumbling to the floor as her legs were swept out from underneath her. Her breath got knocked out of her from the force of falling. The assistant rolled on top of her and batted her sword out of her hand.

The warm leather was ripped from her hand, the blade sliding across the floor. As she watched her sword skid away, she felt all hope in her fade away.

The fight was over.

He has disarmed her.

 _She lost._

He rolled off of her and retreated to the shelves of swords. Clarke felt a weight settle over her shoulders. _She lost._ Oh, gods, she just lost. _On television._ How would anyone want to sponsor her now?

Raven rushed over to her as soon as the assistant was out of the ring, signaling the fight was over.

"Are you okay!?" Charlotte cried, not too far behind the older girl. Raven had a huge smile on her face as she walked up to her.

"You did great!" she congratulated her. She reached her hand forward, helping Clarke off the floor. Her muscles ached as she lifted her arm. She never thought sword fighting would be so exhausting.

"Look at your time, Clarke!" Monty squeezed her shoulder. The group turned towards the time board. The board hung against the back wall, showing stats about each of the tributes that fought in the ring. They were ranked solely on time. She felt her mouth drop open at the results.

She had one of the top five times out of the tributes. _She had lasted the fifth longest in the ring_. There were only four tributes that were placed ahead of her; Ontari, Lincoln, Roan, and Dax. Even better, she was slightly ahead of Cage and several other tributes.

A small smile spread across her face and she felt a sense of pride blossom in her. Monty congratulated her and Charlotte bounced on her heels excitedly.

While her group was chatting excitedly among themselves, Clarke couldn't help but glance around the training centre. A few feet away from the ring, she spotted familiar messy hair. Bellamy and Octavia stood off to the side, clearly having watched her fight.

She caught his eyes for a brief second. Bellamy nodded his head slightly and his lips quirked up the slightest bit, like he was impressed with her. She shot Bellamy an appreciative smile.

Who would've thought that she would _actually appreciate_ the District 2 tribute?

Even though she didn't win the fight, she couldn't have been happier with the results. Maybe they didn't need Lincoln after all.

Maybe they would be okay.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I was very excited to explain some of Bellamy's motivations in this chapter! I've spent the last eight chapters building up Clarke's reasons for going to the Games, but barely touched on Bellamy's. Now we know! Bellamy volunteered to protect Octavia; not for honour like most other Careers. He was well aware that meant he would have to die for her to win the Games.**

 **I was also super excited to have that mini-conflict between the Careers and Bellamy in this chapter. I loved imagining the reactions by the other Careers when a tribute wouldn't join their pack. Like Bellamy said in this chapter, he isn't there to fight. He's just there to protect Octavia, and the Careers would get in the way of that. I hope that explains some of the mysterious Career drama I've been alluding to!**

 **Thank you once again for** ** _all_** **of the amazing comments on last chapter. I couldn't believe how many people got excited by it! Thank you for leaving your thoughts and expressing your excitement. It's amazing how much a single comment can impact inspiration and motivation for a fic. They're like fuel!**

 ** _IMPORTANT NOTE:_** I will be taking a short break from updating this fic! Editing each chapter before posting is taking a _lot_ more time than I originally thought it would. I don't plan for this break to be long. I have every intention to return to regular updates before November (the goal is mid-October). Updates regarding this will be given on my Twitter (Pawprinter1). Thanks for understanding.

 **Thank you for reading! Every read, kudo, comment, bookmark and subscribe is greatly appreciated. Thanks for making this fic so much fun to post!**

 **See everyone in a few weeks.**

 **Paw**


	10. Chapter 10: Retuning The Favour

**Sorry for such a long wait with the updates! Here is a fairly long chapter (just over 8500 words) to make up for it. Plus** ** _Bellarke._** **Need I say more?**

 **Warning: violence, mentions of violence**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Retuning The Favour**

* * *

Clarke walked into the training centre, several feet in front of Wells. Ever since yesterday, she was ignoring him. While she thought they were in the verge of a breakthrough, he had to go and ruin it.

It still made her mad. He killed her dad and got her locked up, yet he still thought they could be friends? He thought he had the right to protect her and speak for her? No. It didn't work that way. He lost the privilege of giving his input when he turned his back on her. She was on the last straw with him.

She ate dinner quickly the night before, ignoring everything Wells said to her – which wasn't much, thankfully. She was thankful that he seemed to want to keep quiet about the whole incident – he hadn't told Kane yet. _Thanks the gods_. She didn't think that Kane would be too happy when he found out she went against his advice. He specifically told her to stay away from the Careers, which she didn't listen to.

She hadn't gone on the roof that night. Her shoulder was still tender from where Ontari pulled it, and she didn't want to risk falling as she climbed down the vines. Clarke doubted that the news of a tribute dying from sneaking out of their room would go over well with the Capitol officials.

She rolled her shoulder with a slight grimace as she walked towards her alliance. She didn't notice the pain originally – probably from the adrenaline – but after she showered, she could feel her shoulder _throbbing._ She was thankful for the Capitol's advanced technology that night. After she put some bruise cream on, it had felt loads better. She still felt the whispers of pain when she woke up that morning, but nothing like she knew she would've felt without that cream.

Clarke was nervous. Today was their last day to train. After today, they had only a few days left before the arena. They had the private training session with the Gameskeepers tomorrow, where they showed off their skills and were ranked against each other. The day after that was the interviews, which involved hours of makeup and other preparations. Kane told her they had a few hours in the morning free, so he would be giving them a crash course in previous arenas and the skills that won those Games. The next day, they were being thrown into the arena to fight to the death.

She wasn't ready. She doubted she would ever be ready for that moment she had to step into the glass tube and be lifted into the arena. She dreaded the moment she would see the glowing cornucopia in the centre of the arena, housing various weapons.

She wondered what the arena would be that year. She was thankful Kane was going to review old arenas with them. He claimed they liked to repeat them often, or at least use elements from previous Games.

Once, she watched the Games of tributes running around a snowy landscape, which caused most of the tributes to die from hypothermia. Another time, an active volcano wiped out more than half of the tributes. She doubted either of those settings would be recycled, since they weren't too popular with the sponsors. _There wasn't enough gore._

If she was being honest, she wasn't sure that knowing the arena would help her or not. She wasn't experienced in any terrain. Any arena would be just as new and deadly to her. It could've been a volcano or a forest – she didn't know how to survive in either of those conditions. Still, she wasn't going to pass on any opportunity to get a leg up on her competitors.

She swallowed thickly. When did children her age or younger become her competitors? She didn't have too much time to ponder it, as she spotted Raven and Monty across the room. Like the previous days, Raven waved her over. She was still munching on a banana from breakfast, while Monty looked half asleep.

"You still up for some axe throwing today?" she asked Monty as she reached them. He grimaced and cracked open an eye slowly. He winced when the bright fluorescent lights of the training centre hit his eyes.

"So ready," he said sarcastically, shielding his face from the lights. He got up from his chair and stretched his back. "Raven and I had a late night," Monty explained after noticing Clarke's questioning gaze.

"Our stupid mentor thought it was a good idea to stay up until 2AM talking about their own Games," Raven supplied with the roll of her eyes. "It was absolute torture."

"He won The 3rd Hunger Games," he explained further to Clarke. _Ah._ That explained why it was torture.

"Oh," she said. She had heard about The 3rd Hunger Games. While it was the first Games, it was one of the most boring. They still hadn't perfected the method of fear they had now. While their Game wouldn't last more than three weeks, some of the early Games lasted more than a month. Most competitors didn't die from combat, but from hunger and thirst. She couldn't imagine their mentor's story was too particularly interesting.

"I slept through the alarm," Raven grumbled. "Does it look I brushed my hair today? Because I didn't."

"I haven't showered," Monty complained. "I'm serious, this is-" He fell silent and focused on something else. Clarke turned around and felt all the words die in her throat.

It was Charlotte with Lincoln.

Both District 8 tributes were walking towards them. _Oh gods._ Lincoln was there. Why was Lincoln there? He denied wanting to be part of their alliance.

"Hi, Clarke!" Charlotte called, breaking her from her thoughts. Her eyes were stuck on Lincoln, too stunned to muster a reply. His eyes were glued to her too. Charlotte turned to Lincoln and gestured towards Clarke. "That's Clarke."

"We've met," he said. While his voice wasn't warm, it wasn't unfriendly either. He seemed… distant and awkward. He stretched out his hand towards her. "Hi." That seemed to knock some of the shock out of Clarke.

"Hi!" She eagerly took his hand and shook it. What was he doing here? Did Charlotte do it? Did she convince him to join their alliance?

She grimaced when she realized she was clutching his hand too long to be friendly. He gave her an odd look as she jolted and pulled away from his grasp. _Oh gods._ She had to get it together.

"That's Raven – she's super smart and good with building things," Charlotte pointed at Raven. She quickly approached Lincoln and shook his hand. She looked just as stunned as Clarke felt. "And that's Monty – he's so nice and he's super smart too."

"Nice to meet you both." He shook their hands, a warm smile developing on his face.

"Wow. Strong hands." Monty's voice was faint, but Lincoln could clearly hear him. Monty froze and looked up, completely stunned.

"Uh. Okay."

Monty quickly shuffled away. Clarke understood where he was coming from. They had been hoping Lincoln would join their alliance for days. He was the only tribute that looked friendly enough for them to get along with, and he had an obvious talent for weapons. They were all a little stunned and out of their depths by him walking up to the group.

Lincoln turned to Clarke, a sheepish look on his face. "Looks like you've got me." Her eyes widened and flicked to Charlotte. The young girl was bouncing on her heels with excitement.

"You're in?" she repeated, her tone laced with excitement. Lincoln nodded and turned to the young girl beside him. He playfully ruffled her hair and she batted his hand away. Clarke smiled as the two of them interacted. They looked close enough to be brother and sister. What happened?

"Charlotte is a good negotiator," he said fonldy. "She kept telling me how great you guys were."

"Well, we are pretty great," Raven said, weakly trying to make a laugh. Nobody really felt like laughing. They were all too stunned. Would they actually have a good chance at survival now? Lincoln was an amazing fighter – he was proficient with almost every weapon he used from what Clarke could see. With him, they had all of their bases covered.

"It's really good to have you, Lincoln," Clarke said. He smiled and nodded at her. She was worried that she wouldn't have enough time to get to know him before the Games, but she put that out of her mind. He looked trustworthy, he made Charlotte happy, and he was a good fighter. There wasn't much else she needed to figure out. They _needed_ him and she was willing to take a risk for it.

"You were right, Clarke. There _is_ safety in numbers," he stressed. He glanced around their alliance, nodding appreciatively. Raven snorted.

"I'm just glad you're the one walking up to us, and not _Murphy_ from District 5." She pulled a face as she said his name. Clarke chewed on her lip at Raven's comment. Truth be told, she was thinking about John Murphy for a while now. The only thing holding her back from asking him to join their alliance was Raven's dislike of him.

Clarke liked Murphy, strangely. He was crude, obnoxious, and overwhelming, but she could tell he had a good heart.

 _Okay._ That was pushing it. He had a decent heart, though.

 _Maybe._

Well, it didn't really matter. He had _a_ heart, and he was painfully honest. _That_ was something she could appreciate. After being thrown in lock-up for just _thinking_ about being honest, she grew an appreciation for anyone with that ability. She knew he wouldn't sugarcoat things, which hurt most of the time, but she could appreciate it.

"Actually…" Clarke turned to Raven, a meek smile on her face. Raven's expression fell further.

"Oh, no. No, Clarke." Clarke looked exasperated.

"I haven't even said anything!" Raven rolled her eyes.

"You didn't need to. I've hung around you long enough at this point. I know what you're thinking." Clarke pressed her lips into a thin line. "You want to ask Murphy to join our alliance, don't you?"

"Uh…" She shifted under her gaze. Finally, she let out a sigh. "I was actually thinking that. You're right." Her face lit up.

"I knew it!" Her eyes turned stormy. "Don't you dare."

"Who's Murphy?" Lincoln questioned, joining the conversation. Charlotte poked his arm.

"Raven has a thing with him." Raven's face turned scarlet.

"I most definitely don't have a thing with him," she said quickly. She turned to Lincoln. "I don't."

"Okay, then what's the problem?" he asked. "Who is he?" Charlotte scanned the tribute area critically.

"There. That's him. The one eating a blueberry muffin." Charlotte vaguely gestured in his direction. "Raven and him argued over who knocked who down at the train station." Raven frowned.

"He spilt chocolate on me. _Then_ I almost got arrested." She groaned and fell back into her chair.

"But, Raven…" Monty sent her a sympathetic look. "I'm sure it was an accident." Clarke watched in amusement as her alliance interacted freely. It was nice knowing everyone was getting along relatively well.

"Oh, I'm sure it was." She sent him a sour look before blowing a piece of hair from her face. Lincoln shrugged and turned to Clarke.

"We both said it. There's safety in numbers. It might be good to have another set of eyes and hands. We might need it." Charlotte immediately agreed with Lincoln.

"Up to you, Clarke," Monty agreed. "Just as long as he doesn't kill me in my sleep, I'm fine with him joining." Raven sent him a look.

"I wouldn't put it past him," she snapped. After a long moment, her shoulders slumped and she turned to Clarke. "Whatever. I'll be okay if you're okay." Clarke nearly choked at that.

"What? Really?" Raven's head fell into her hands. Between her fingers, she mumbled a response. While she obviously wasn't happy about it, she was willing to let Murphy join their alliance.

"I know I don't really have a place here, but I think the more of us, the better. That means one less person out there trying to kill us." Lincoln smiled warmly at Clarke. "We can never be too precautious. Especially with the careers this year." His face darkened at that. Clarke nodded in agreement.

"Districts 1 and 4 are lethal," Monty agreed.

"They'll pick off the easy targets first, most likely," Lincoln said. "Those without an alliance, those that go into the cornucopia in the bloodbath, those that are sloppy with covering their trail. If we are all together, we can work together to avoid that."

"I agree," Clarke said, a smile on her face. When she asked Lincoln to be part of their alliance, she didn't know he was so wise. He had wisdom she thought only a Career would know. She briefly wondered how he knew such good tactics and was a skilled fighter, but be from an outer district. "What are your skills? Anything specific?"

"I don't want to fight," he said quickly. Clarke was surprised at that. His choice wouldn't be one based on lack of skill. "I only want to survive. If that means killing nobody, I will be happy. I'm not here to kill. I'm not here to fight. I'm here because I have to be."

"We all are," Raven said, lifting her head from her hands. "None of us volunteered. We were all reaped. We all know where you're coming from." Monty nodded.

"We don't want to kill anyone either," he said. "The plan is to just survive as long as we can without hurting anyone."

"I'll join," Lincoln said slowly. Clarke somehow felt like there was a _but_ coming. "But, I'll only stay if the Careers are out there. As soon as the Careers are wiped out, I'll go my own way."

"That's fair," Clarke determined. Lincoln needed them to survive, just like they needed him to survive. As soon as he felt like the biggest threat was gone, he would leave the alliance.

She had seen it happen on television before. Alliances _always_ fell apart. Whether it be because it was wiped out, or a tribute turned and betrayed the alliance, or the alliance disbanded, she couldn't recall a time where an alliance made it to the ends of a Game.

Most commonly, alliances would disband once it got down to the final few tributes. She guessed that nobody really wanted to fight someone that you had spent the last several weeks protecting.

She glanced around her small group of allies, an odd feeling growing in her stomach. _This wasn't permanent._ One way or another, only one of them could survive. In a few weeks, they would either all be dead or separated.

She pushed that thought out of her head quickly and reminded herself that it was the whole point of the Games. Only one could live.

Clarke turned to the young girl who was still rocking on the balls of her feet from excitement. That's one thing Clarke had come to know about Charlotte – she was always moving. She had lots of energy and gave it her all every day.

"You look chipper," Clarke commented. The young girl flashed a wide smile.

"I'm just excited Lincoln is here," she said. "I've been talking to Lincoln lots. He's really nice." Lincoln looked at the younger girl, a soft smile on his face.

"You're a good kid, Char," he said. She flashed him a smile.

"We mostly talk about home. Our families." The smile wavered at the mention of her loved ones she left behind. It was clear that she missed her family and friends. At that age, Clarke was sure she would be feeling the same way. She decided not to push the topic of Lincoln anymore to the girl – she seemed to hurt whenever her home was brought up.

"We both miss them, but it's easier to get through it together," Lincoln agreed. This perked the girl right up and she nodded enthusiastically. As Lincoln and Charlotte discussed the simple things of District 8, like the honey and the smell of town square, the five of them made their way to the axe throwing station. Monty soon joined in on their conversation, talking about the few occasions he had honey from their district.

Clarke smiled at the three of them. It made Clarke happy to know that they were starting to get close. While Monty and Charlotte were both her picks, she knew that Monty would've never selected Charlotte to join. She just wasn't the typical ally you went for in the Games. While the four other tributes surrounding her were _her_ allies by choice, the same couldn't be said for the rest of them. It was nice seeing them bonding and getting along.

There was only room for one thrower at a time, so Monty decided to go first. Raven has pulled out another piece of fruit from her pocket and Charlotte was pressed tightly against the glass wall that looked out at the targets. She had dragged Lincoln with her to watch, still not done talking to him about their home. Clarke half wondered if Lincoln had any younger siblings – he was so good with children.

Clarke looked away from her group and scanned the rest of the tributes. Most of them had shown up right after she did, so the training centre was full. Tributes could be seen at every station, all of them feeling the panic that came with the final day of training.

Her shoulder throbbed as she caught sight of the Careers. They were slicing dummies with swords, laughing and giggling amongst each other. They didn't have a care in the world as they used their weapons. A chill went of Clarke's spine at the sight of them. They weren't scared or panicked over it being the last day of training. In fact, they looked like they were having a good time. It made her feel sick.

She could see Murphy working on making fish hooks across the room, a scowl on his face. He was isolated from all other tributes, which was a good thing for her. If he was already in an alliance, he wouldn't want to join hers. She would have to catch him when he looked like he was in a better mood, now that her whole group agreed on asking him to join.

When she caught sight of Bellamy and Octavia, she was stunned to find him looking at her too. They locked eyes from across the room, like two magnets drawn to each other. She smiled and sent him a little wave. He smiled back, but his attention was pulled away by Octavia.

Clarke couldn't keep the smile off her face when she turned back to her allies. She felt giddy just by catching him staring at her. She tried to quash those feelings as soon as they rose. Raven was staring at her, her eyebrow raised.

"What's got you so happy?" Clarke merely shrugged and wiped the smile off. She tried to look nonchalant as she turned to her ally.

"Nothing. Just happy that we've almost done most of the stations," she responded. While it wasn't the reason she had a silly smirk on her face, it was a partial truth; they only had a few stations to accomplish today. They had done well as a group. While they weren't great or even good at all the skills, they had enough knowledge to get by.

"Hm. Me too." Raven took another bite of her banana. "I'm glad we're a team. We got a lot more done." Clarke nodded in agreement.

"Wow!" Charlotte exclaimed. The two girls peered into the glass incased room. Out of the three aces Monty threw, two landed on the target. He sent them a wide smile and Raven sent him a thumbs up. He turned back to throw more axes, clearly having a knack for the skill. As he began throwing, Clarke found herself looking back where she last seen Bellamy.

He was standing at the plant identification station with his sister, their backs towards the axe throwing station. They were both working on it together, but there was still a bunch of red lighting up the screen. For every green light, there were five red ones. It was safe to assume that they were going to fail the assignment they were trying to complete.

Almost as if he could sense eyes on him, he turned around, locking eyes with her. They stared at each other for a moment before he stuck his tongue out at her. Clarke nearly burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

He looked silly. He was a trained killer and only days away before having to fight for his life, but when he stuck his tongue out, he looked like a normal teenager. He didn't look like someone who had the weight of the world placed on his shoulders. He looked like a regular 18-year-old – someone ready to graduate school and go out into the real world. He looked like someone who was having fun with friends, not training to fight for his life.

Clarke turned away from him again, an even bigger smile on her face than before. She took a second to compose herself before she fully faced Raven. She knew that if the older girl seen her with a smile, she would only dig deeper to find out why.

When Clarke turned back to the group, Monty was leaving the room, a smile on his face. He was proud of his accomplishments inside the training area – rightfully so. He managed to hit most of the targets, which was impressive. Raven congratulated him on a job well done.

"Clarke! Your turn!" Charlotte called from the glass wall, waving her over eagerly. She nodded her head and chewed on her lip. She wasn't looking forward to trying to throw an axe.

"Any tips?" she asked Monty as he strolled up to stand beside Raven. He shrugged.

"It's all in the wrist. Keep it light." Clarke nodded again and walked into the room.

 _She was horrible at it._

Even with Monty shouting tips at her, she only hit the target once out of five times. Her shoulder was still hurting from when Ontari pulled it, making her mobility limited. Every time she swung her arm back, she felt her whole side flare up in pain. Once, she dropped the axe behind her body from an extreme flash of pain. After a few more tries, she gave up, sweat beading down her forehead and arm stinging.

"You still did good!" Charlotte encouraged as she left the room. Clarke laughed and ruffled her hair. Even though she knew the younger girl was just being nice, the effort to cheer her up was appreciated. Charlotte was a good kid.

"Thank you, Charlotte." Raven entered the room next, looking as uncomfortable as Clarke had felt. Once again, Clarke found herself more than thankful that Lincoln decided to join their alliance. They needed all the help they could get with weapons.

She shifted her weight and chewed on her lip. She could feel _him_ tugging at the back of her mind, almost like he was calling her. Finally, she gave into her request, and turned around to look at Bellamy again. He was focused intently on the screen in front of him, which glowed mostly red. He looked tired, while Octavia looked frustrated beside him.

They weren't able to identify plants.

Clarke bit her lip. That was an important skill to have. Out in _any_ environment, you'd have to collect your own food. You couldn't always rely on the sponsors to give every single meal, nor could you rely on using whatever resources you picked up from the cornucopia. If you weren't part of the Careers, then you couldn't reply on the cornucopia at all, really. They usually took control of the resources, cutting off supplies from the rest of the tributes.

The two Blakes looked stressed. Bellamy had frown on his face as he punched various buttons, while Octavia was chewing on her lip. She muttered something to him and he rolled his eyes in response. They both looked like they were nearing their last straws with this skill.

Clarke turned to Monty, an idea popping in her head. She didn't think through all the details, but she didn't really need to. It just felt like the right thing to do, and who was she to argue with her intuition?

"I'm going to help District 2," she declared. Monty looked at her in surprise, his eyes wide.

"Wh-What?" He sputtered, unable to form proper words. Clarke wasn't surprised by his reaction. It wasn't a secret that he wasn't a fan of the Careers. In fact, she could say the same about her whole alliance. They didn't trust the Career districts.

"Yeah. They're struggling with their plant identification." Clarke didn't need his permission, but she felt odd if she just left without a proper explanation. If they were going to be her allies, there needed to be some mutual trust. Monty stared at her blankly.

"…And? No offence, but if there's something that takes more Careers out of the competition, I'm all for it." Clarke frowned at his answer. She knew that if she hadn't interacted with Bellamy those few times, she would be saying the same thing. _Everyone_ knew the Careers were dangerous. Nobody trusted them in any aspect of life. The Careers were the Capitol's lapdogs, so dealing with them in any capacity was frustrating.

But still, Clarke couldn't help but feel like Bellamy was different. Wasn't he different?

"He helped me yesterday when he saw me struggling. I'm just returning the favour. That way, there's nothing he can hold over me." _Sure_ , she thought, _that was the reason she wanted to help them._

Monty shrugged, knowing he wouldn't be able to convince her otherwise. "If you think so." Clarke nodded her head, her jaw locked in determination.

"I do. I'll catch up with you guys in a bit." With those words, she left the axe throwing area and headed over to where Bellamy and Octavia stood. Bellamy was swearing under his breath as he kept punching wrong buttons. Each time he hit a wrong answer, the machine would buzz loudly.

Clarke approached from behind them and read the question as it appeared on the screen. It was asking him to identify the non-poisonous berry out of the four pictures. _Simple enough._ His hand began inching towards a poisonous berry.

"Not that one," she said quickly, disturbing the silence. The Blakes both jumped slightly, both startled by her sudden appearance. Bellamy's hand clenched and fell towards his side. He turned around, a smirk on his lips.

"Hey, princess." While she once despised him calling her than, she honestly couldn't care at that point. She wasn't too sure what it meant or _why_ he called her that, but it didn't really matter. If she was a princess, then so be it. She returned his smile and walked up to the podium, stepping in-between the Blake siblings.

"Hey," she responded as she pressed the button. The question lit up green on the large screen. She smiled in satisfaction and turned to Bellamy. "It looks like _I'll_ be the one helping you today," she said. He grimaced.

"I take it you know what you're doing with this?" he asked. She nodded her head. "Thank the gods."

"I was in school to become a medic, so I'm familiar with some plants. I always went to gather herbs with my mother."

Clarke turned to Octavia, a wide smile on her face. This was the first time she had seen the younger girl up close. The girl had her brown hair tied back and her eyes wide, clearly curious. While she had stolen a few glances at her during the tribute parade and training, she looked different closer up.

"I'm Clarke," she introduced herself.

"I know," Octavia said, a faint hint of laughter in her voice. Clarke raised her eyebrow, shocked at her response. "Bellamy told me." Octavia let out a laugh at Bellamy's expression and shook Clarke's hand. "He said that you two had fun training yesterday."

"We did," she admitted openly. It _was_ fun, in a way. It was nice to feel close to someone again, after going so long without that connection. "I mean, other than a little visit from the Careers." Bellamy scoffed, his nose wrinkling up.

"Gods, I hope they don't come bother us again today. Maybe they got the hint yesterday." Clarke snorted.

"Sure. Just like how my district partner keeps getting the hint." Bellamy cracked a smile at that, remembering how he was confronted by Wells the day earlier. It seemed that they both had drama with their districts. Clarke looked at the next question that popped up on the screen, drawing her attention away from the Blakes. "Do you know the answer?" she asked Bellamy. He stared at the question for a long moment before cracking a half-smile.

"I don't have the slightest clue," he said. Octavia muttered something in agreement.

Even though she should've felt bad for the siblings, she couldn't help but smile. For the first time _ever_ , she saw a Career struggling with a skill used in the Hunger Games. Where Bellamy and Octavia seemed to know how to do everything else, they struggled with plant identification. It was a strange feeling, being the one to know the answer. Weren't the Careers supposed to know everything to do with the Games?

"The trick is to look for the patterns," she said, brushing off her thoughts. While she spoke about how to tell if a plant was poisonous or not, she couldn't help but focus on Bellamy. He was watching her so intently, nodding when she mentioned something. When he was confused by something, his forehead would wrinkle and his eyebrows would lift the slightest bit.

She couldn't help but admit it. He was cute, even when he was confused. She had thought so the other day too, when he was completely focused on training her. He looked intense, which caused her heart to skip.

Her mind froze.

She continued to speak about plants, but she wasn't focusing on that. Her mind kept spiraling around and around.

 _She thought Bellamy was cute._

She panicked at that thought.

 _She couldn't think that._

He was a Career. He wasn't trustworthy. He was a trained killer. They would have to go fight to the death in two days. She couldn't allow herself to think he was cute. She couldn't get attached.

Clarke felt dread seep into her. _This couldn't be happening._

Now that she examined her feelings more, the more dread she felt.

She was beginning to trust him. How could she not – he had helped train her in something she lacked. He told her things that he said he never told anyone else. He was vulnerable with her, and she was open with him. He brought out a side of her that she thought had died with her father – a little sliver of her humanity and a little sliver of her heart.

She had been acting ever since she got to the Capitol. She didn't act like who she truly was – all she was doing was pretending for the cameras and playing it up to get sponsors. With Bellamy? She felt like she could be herself. She felt like she could allow herself to laugh and to joke. She felt like she could tell him what was on her mind – what was truly on her mind, not just some crap she said to get allies and sponsors.

He was one of the most lethal people in the Games, and yet she _chose him_ to trust. Out of all of the people here, she seemed to be drawn to him the most. She seemed to trust him the most.

She must admit, she wasn't completely there yet. She didn't trust him completely – and she wasn't sure if she ever would be able to. But even the smallest bit of trust she had for him scared her.

 _She shouldn't trust him._

 _She shouldn't be open with him._

 _She shouldn't consider him a friend, and she shouldn't even consider him as a potential ally._

Yet, here she was.

And, if she was being honest with herself, _she didn't even care_. She knew that she was dealing with something potentially dangerous, but she threw caution to the wind. What did it matter if she was careful or not? She was still going to have to fight in a few days. She was still going to that arena, and she would have to fight for her life, regardless of how she interacted with Bellamy Blake.

Plus, what was the worst thing that could happen? Even if Bellamy was lying this whole time, what would that do? He turned down her offer to be in an alliance. They weren't planning on interacting during the Games. He wasn't picking her brain for details on her alliances. He wasn't digging for weaknesses and vulnerabilities. What was he really gaining, if he was just playing the game this whole time? If he was only talking to her so he could kill her later, she would've thought he would be digging a little deeper.

Talking to him or not – it changed nothing. Either way, they were going to fight to the death soon. Either way, they weren't going to be allies in the arena. Either way, their friendship – or whatever she wanted to call it – wasn't going to last more than two days, and by the end of two weeks, they wouldn't both be alive anymore.

 _So what was the harm?_

She couldn't find any. She was worried that he was only playing the game, but there was something in her that told her that he wasn't. He was vulnerable with her the day before. And, here he was now, openly admitting that he couldn't do something.

 _She could feel herself starting to trust him._

Even though people warned her not to, she did. They didn't truly know him – just the stereotypes – but _she knew him_. She knew he was kind. She knew he had a good heart.

And, _so what_ if she thought he was cute. _He was cute._ Especially his tiny mannerisms he had, whether that be throwing his head back when he laughed or scrunching up his face when he thought – it made him even more attractive in Clarke's eyes. He was unique and honest and _human._ She could feel herself attracted to him in more than one way.

 _That's what scared her._

Who cared if she talked to him, or trusted him. In the end, that couldn't be used to hurt her, as long as she was cautious and aware. But she could _feel_ herself starting to view him as a friend. She could feel herself being drawn towards him, like two magnets on a bench. _That_ was dangerous. _That_ could be used against her.

He was quickly becoming her Achilles heel.

Clarke tried to push those thoughts out of her head and live in the moment. If she got too caught up with her thoughts, she wouldn't get anywhere. She would just think herself in circles.

She stood to the side and watched Octavia tap at the screen. Bellamy stood beside her, his shoulder close to brushing up against hers. She could practically feel his body warmth rolling off of him, inviting her closer. The three of them were silent as Octavia took the quiz. So far, she had a success rate of 79%, which was good considering she had failed spectacularly only moments before.

"You're a good teacher, too," Bellamy said suddenly, breaking the silence. Clarke looked up at him, curious. "Yesterday, you said I was a good teacher. You're a good one too," he explained further. She smiled and adverted her eyes, feeling touched by his words.

"Thank you." They were silent for a moment, the only sounds coming from Octavia's fingers hitting the buttons.

"I wanted to be one, you know," he said, once again breaking the silence. "A teacher, I mean. I always wanted to be a teacher." Clarke was surprised by his words. He had been training his whole life to be a fighter, yet he always dreamed of becoming a teacher? She never would have guessed that was his dream career, but, as soon as he said it, she could see it. He would've made a good teacher.

"What made you want to do that?" she asked lightly. Making conversation with him was as easy as breathing. It struck Clarke just how connected she felt to him.

"I loved studying at school. And reading – especially stories of the old world. Before Panem." Clarke nodded, a warm feeling erupting in her chest. She read books from before Panem, too. She loved them, actually. They were all so light and full of hope. She was sure at the time that they were published, they were hits, but not so much anymore. It also hurt her to read them – to be reminded of the past that was torn apart. "I wanted to teach history."

"You'd be good at that," she agreed. If he read so much old material, she could see how he would've made a good history teacher. Plus, he read mythology and material from ancient times. "An Adonis teaching about Adonis," Clarke joked. Bellamy went completely silent at that. She quickly ran through what she just said, trying to figure out what caused him to get so quiet. Her heart stopped.

 _She called him an Adonis._

Her cheeks lit up in a blush as her words finally registered. Adonis was a man from mythology, one of the most beautiful men to grace Earth. _She just called him beautiful._ It wasn't a lie, but she _really_ didn't need to go around admitting that to him.

Before she could even begin to explain herself, Octavia interrupted them.

"Done!" Clarke was thankful for the distraction, and left Bellamy standing. She walked up to the podium and read off the results.

"You're doing really well," she praised. "80%."

"All thanks to you," Octavia pointed out, poking her shoulders. "Seriously, we would've been so lost without you."

"Well, the same goes for your brother. He really helped me yesterday. I'm just returning the favour." There were those words again. _Just returning the favour._ Like she hadn't come to help them because she wanted to. She didn't come to help to return a favour – she came to help because she _wanted_ to help. She didn't want to see them struggle over a skill she had. It had nothing to do with repaying anything.

"I'm going to try the rock wall," Bellamy said suddenly. "I'll be back in a bit." With that, he left the two girls standing. As soon as he was out of earshot, Octavia turned to Clarke, a large smile plastered on her face.

"Bellamy told me that you invited us to be in your alliance?" she asked. She genuinely looked excited by the prospect.

"Yeah, but he said no. He just wants to be able to focus on you during the Games." Octavia batted her hand in the air.

"He's so overprotective," she dismissed. Clarke noticed that her nose scrunched up like his did when he was confused. "But I see the point in him wanting to stay away from big groups. They attract attention." Clarke shrugged.

Even though that may be true, she never wanted to be alone again – not after the past year. She wanted to be surrounded by people and laughter. She wanted to hear human voices. She wanted to be able to reach out and feel the warmth of another person if she needed to. After her time in lock-up, she never wanted to be alone for long periods of time again.

"Maybe, but I'd rather attract attention than be alone." She stopped herself and faced Octavia, a grimace on her face. "I'm sorry – that came out wrong. I wasn't implying that you're all alone. I know you have your brother." Octavia snorted, clearly not offended by Clarke's words.

"No, I get it. Sometimes being lonely is torture enough," she said, her smile dipping. Clarke got the impression that the young girl had her fair share of experiences with tragedy and torture. "But Bellamy is enough for me. It was the two of us, plus our mother, growing up. Mom wasn't home much – she was always working, trying to provide for us."

"I didn't know," Clarke said, completely shocked by her words. Bellamy never spoke about his past, just like she never did with hers. "It must've been tough." Octavia shrugged.

"In some ways, yes. In most, I had a normal childhood. I got to go to school and train. I had friends and we would hang out and have sleepovers. But it was Bellamy who raised me – not my mom." She sighed wistfully and closed her eyes, almost like she was remembering a memory. "He was the one to teach me how to hold my first sword, too." The two girls smiled at each other, both feeling closer with each other with that shared connection.

"He's a good teacher," Clarke agreed. "He would've made a good one." Octavia frowned deeply at that, her eyes sparking.

"He still _will_ make a good one," she corrected. "He's going to get out of here. He's going to win. I'll make sure of it." Clarke wanted to say that it wasn't possible – he had come here to protect Octavia, no matter the cost. She knew he didn't expect to live past the Games. She knew he planned to sacrifice his life for hers. While he hadn't said it out loud, she could tell. Clarke held her tongue though. She didn't want to interfere with Blake family drama.

"So, you used to train at your school?" Clarke asked, changing the subject quickly. If possible, Octavia frowned even further.

"Yeah. We were trained at school by previous victors and Peacekeepers. You name it, we did it. Sword duels, knife throwing, axe wielding, hand-to-hand combat. Every day for several hours, we would go and train between classes. It's mandatory for all citizens at the age 11."

"Wow." She couldn't imagine growing up in that environment, forced to practice something that could be used to kill someone. Even having to train for the Hunger Games was tough for her. But Octavia had her childhood ripped away. She was forced to grow up too quickly.

"I didn't mind," she said. "That's always been my reality. You go. You train. You train more. You do competitions. You're ranked. The top ones go to the Hunger Games. I just grew up with that idea, so I'm used to it." Clarke nodded her head. It was shocking, just how different the districts were. "I guess it's… different for you?" The idea of growing up differently seemed shocking and foreign to Octavia.

"Very. We don't ever train in District 6. This is the first time I've ever seen a spear in person," she admitted. She wasn't sure why she was telling her these things. After all, they weren't allies. She shouldn't be so open. But, like her brother, Octavia was inviting. "Wait. You said the top students ranked go to the Games?"

"Yup."

"So you and Bellamy were both top of your years?" she asked. Octavia looked away quickly and fiddled with her hands. Clarke got the impression that this was something she didn't want to talk about.

"Well, not exactly." She sighed. "It's complicated. I'm sure Bellamy would want to tell you. He's a better storyteller." Clarke smiled.

"Yeah. Sure." Even though she was dying inside to know what Octavia was hinting at, she let it go. She hoped that she would be able to find out the answer before she died.

"Look. There he is." Octavia waved her hand high in the air. Bellamy was across the room, climbing the rock wall. He half turned around and waved back. Clarke smiled at their connection.

She never had a brother or sister, but she always wanted one. Seeing the Blakes interact made her happy. They were so pure and so giving to each other. Bellamy had practically given up his life for his sister. Not only did he do that for the Hunger Games, but he also did it since the day she was born. If what Octavia said was true, he was the one who truly raised her. She didn't imagine that was easy.

Then, someone caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. John Murphy – the male tribute from District 5 – was throwing knives on the opposite side of the training centre. He was pretty good too; he was hitting most targets near the centre.

 _Perfect._ Just the guy she was looking for. While she knew Murphy was volatile and unpredictable, he wasn't afraid to get dirty. He didn't try to cover up anything either – he was unapologetically himself. He spoke his mind without question.

She needed that type of honesty in her life. Even though she was pretty sure the Blakes weren't playing the game, she could never be sure. With Murphy, she knew. He didn't have a filter.

"It was nice talking with you, Octavia," Clarke said, already moving towards the knife wielding area.

"See you!"

Clarke made her way through the training centre, her eyes never leaving Murphy's back.

"Murphy?" Clarke interrupted his throw. He was already in mid-throw when his attention got pulled away. He swore and the knife went flying past the target. He let out an exasperated sigh and turned towards her.

"Thanks. You messed up my throw," he said dryly, clearly not impressed. "What is it?" His voice was sharp and his patience worn thin.

"I don't know if you remember me. I'm Clarke. We met at the tribute parade." He merely stared at her. When she didn't respond right away, he made a sour face.

"And?" Clarke was tempted to smile – she was right about him. Even though he was rude and harsh, he wasn't afraid to say what he was truly thinking.

"Are you interested in joining an alliance?" she asked. "It's me, Ra-" Murphy cut her off with a short bark of laughter.

"Yeah okay,' he said sarcastically. "I'm a lone wolf kinda guy. I don't do well on teams." He turned back to the targets on the wall, turning his back to her. "I'm more of an _everyone for themselves_ person." He threw a knife, which embedded itself in the target. He smiled at his work. "I'm sure you'll survive without me, won't you Princess?" He turned back to her, a smug look on his face. Clarke narrowed her eyes, but didn't comment about the name. After all, this was the same guy that went off on Wells for being the son of the mayor. What did she expect? He obviously had something against authority figures and their families.

"Well, if you change your mind…" Murphy waved his hand over his shoulder, dismissing her. His attitude made her want to grit her teeth, but she pushed her feelings of frustration down. She knew that this was to be expected with Murphy. Clarke sighed and retreated back to her group of allies to train the rest of the day.

Even though she tried to keep her mind occupied, she couldn't help but think about Murphy and the Blakes.

Murphy burned hot and bright – he was as dangerous and unpredictable as fire. She didn't think many would view him as a good ally, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was a good person. Under all of the rough layers, she felt like he could be a good guy. She could feel it in his actions and see it through his eyes.

It didn't matter anyways – he had turned down her offer to be in her alliance. It was probably for the best anyways; he didn't get along well with the others. She remembered at the tribute parade, when he first met Raven and Monty. Raven and him rubbed the wrong way specifically, there was no question about that. Clarke knew that he drove her up a wall.

That seemed to be a frequent thing with him. He also drove Wells up a wall. She could see how. Even hearing about Bellamy calling her princess set her off in a mood – she couldn't imagine actually dealing with another tribute that had it out to annoy you.

Although, she did have something similar with Bellamy at start. While she didn't think he was out to annoy her, he did that job fairly easily. She couldn't believe how different the District 2 tribute was when she got to know him. He had so many layers that it was hard to pull back. They were in the Games, so it was even harder to tell what was real and what was an act. Still, she could feel it in herself. He was special.

The same went with Octavia. Both of the Blake siblings were special. She had the same kind heart as Bellamy, even if she was slightly more bubbly and open than her brother. She couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. Was it possible for the both of them to be so open and welcoming to her?

She glanced across the training room briefly, just long enough to see Octavia and Bellamy both climbing the rock wall, each racing to the top. Even with death looming above their heads, they were laughing with each other and trying to beat the other up the wall.

She smiled.

Regardless if they were playing the game, she felt inexplicably drawn to them.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I absolutely adore writing Murphy, so I hope you enjoyed reading about him.**

 **I've been thinking about the ages of characters in this fic. Below is a list of main characters so far, and their corresponding ages.**

 **Clarke - 17**

 **Wells - 17**

 **Raven - 18**

 **Monty - 17**

 **Charlotte - 12**

 **Lincoln - 18**

 **Murphy - 18**

 **Bellamy - 18**

 **Octavia - 16**

 **Ontari - 16**

 **Cage - 18**

 **Roan - 18**

 **Luna – 17**

 **Like I mentioned in an earlier chapter, many of their ages had to be adapted to fit this fic. If you don't enjoy changing the ages of certain characters, feel free to imagine that the Hunger Games' age limit extends beyond 18 and keep all characters with their canon ages.**

 **A few comments: Bellamy was still quite young when Octavia was born, but he still played an active part in raising her.**

 **A quick shout out to Catastrophicchloe on AO3! She recently started writing her own fic with Bellarke set in The Hunger Games called "Safe and Sound." And, amazingly, it was inspired by this fic! We've spent** ** _hours_** **discussing our fics and different concepts and I can safely say her fic is going to be an amazing read! I also just wanted to say that I gave full permission to her to write her fic. Go check it out!**

 **Sorry for such a long wait between updates! Next chapter** ** _should_** **be posted on October 23. I hope regular updates will pick up after that! My deepest apologizes. I know how tough it is to wait so long for updates. I'll try my absolute best to get them out quickly.**

 **Thanks for reading! I'm currently pre-writing chapter 34 (** ** _wow_** **) but I'm at a complete standstill. Comments are my fuel, so I would really love if you left your thoughts below! Also, wish me luck with chapter 34. It feels impossible to write it at this point!**

 **Thank you for all of the reviews, favourites and follows. I truly appreciate everyone who has clicked on this fic to read! As some of you may have noticed, I have fallen behind on my replies! I'm sooooooooo sorry. Please know that I always read every review left on this fic (and any fic of mine).** ** _Thank you!_**

 **Paw**


	11. Chapter 11: A Little Chat

**A/N: I am quite nervous for this chapter and have spent weeks pouring over it. This is where the fic starts to take a darker turn (please read the warnings below if you're curious). Due to this shift in the fic, I'm both nervous and excited to post it! I hope you enjoy reading and please leave your thoughts at the end!**

 ***Warning (contains spoilers):** ** _This is the darkest chapter yet._** **For the past few chapters, I've been mentioning violence in my warnings. I just wanted to state that this chapter is sort of like the turning point with violence…** ** _Therefore,_** **a warning for violence, torture and bullying in this chapter.**

 **If you'd like to discuss** ** _any_** **warnings further, please contact me. Just a friendly reminder that this violence is kept to a level of what was depicted in canon (or as close as I could get it).**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: A Little Chat**

* * *

Clarke pulled on the sweater that was laying on her bed, feeling thankful that her Avox always thought one step ahead of her. Even though it was summer, the nights got cool on the roof as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. The wind felt like it cut her to the bone most nights.

She opened up the window and slid out, relief instantly smoothing her shoulders. Clarke couldn't help but let a smile spread across her face as the night sky lit up with stars above her. Even though her body ached from training and there was a steady feeling of dread in her chest, she couldn't help but feel happy with this small taste of freedom.

It had been so long since she had any freedom at all that the roof felt like a luxury. She felt at peace. _She felt good_. Once she was on the roof, she was alone without all of the lights and the cameras. She could drop the act of being a fearless leader, because that _wasn't_ her reality. She was terrified of the Games. She didn't know how to lead a bunch of teenagers towards survival. On the roof, she didn't have to be strong for her allies anymore – she could truly just be herself.

She hadn't been on the roof the previous night. She had just been too tired from her training that day. That, and her shoulder hurt beyond belief. She was just thankful that the Capitol had medicine that healed injuries faster than usual. Without it, she wasn't sure if she would've been able to train at all.

After Ontari pulled her sharply, her shoulder had been flaring in pain. _Gods_ that Career knew how to get in her head and under her skin. With the simple tug of her arm, she took control of the situation. It made her blood boil.

Clarke's hands gripped the vines as she climbed to the roof a few floors below her. While the roof was nothing special, she couldn't help but love it. Just seeing the stars reminded her that she was _alive_ and that she was _human_. She was no longer locked up in District 6, away from all human contact. Even though it felt like she was in a different kind of imprisonment as a tribute, it didn't matter in those peaceful moments. _She had escaped her isolation_.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, she was walking to her usual spot at the corner of the roof. The training centre was in the heart of the Capitol, with tall buildings and bright lights spread out in every direction. Even though it made her skin crawl, she couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of it all.

Buildings towered higher than she could've imagined. Lights flashed brighter than she had seen before. Citizens were always walking the streets, chatting and laughing with friends. Fashion was so different than what she was used to. Even though she had been exposed to Capitol fashion through her parents, it was a whole new world to be surrounded by it all of the time. The streets were usually filled with music, most likely from a festival or a patio. The city was alive and buzzing constantly, never taking a second to rest.

It was truly grand in every possible way.

 _It disgusted her._

Just to know that the districts suffered so much while they thrived frustrated her to no end. She knew she came from a fortunate family, but she was also very well aware that not everyone was as lucky as her. Even within her own district, people were sick and dying. People lived in poverty. People struggled to find their next meal.

The sad thing was; she knew they didn't struggle the most out of all districts of Panem. She knew that District 12 was even worse off than her home – they were always the last in the Capitol's list to feed and take care of.

She wondered what the Career districts looked like. Did they look more like her home, or did they look similar to the Capitol? Did their buildings reach towards the sky, or did they stay low to the ground? Did they have any citizens struggling to survive? Did they have large buildings and bright lights and blaring music? Was their district a party all of the time, just like the Capitol?

She wasn't sure. Somehow, she couldn't imagine the Careers would come from a district that looked like hers. How could they? They were, for the most part, arrogant, cocky, and looked at home in the spotlight. They were well trained with weapons and were familiar with the traditions and ways of the Capitol. From what she seen on television, the tributes from those districts went to academies for school, and lived lavish lives.

She wondered how the Blakes grew up. Did they live a glamourous lifestyle that she assumed all people from Career districts lived? She remembered what Octavia told her; their mother was never around because she was always working to provide for them. It was hard to think about.

She was always taught that the Careers should be feared, and that they always got special treatment from the Capitol. After seeing how _wrong_ people were about the Blakes, she couldn't help but question everything else she had been told about their district.

She shivered and pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders.

Her mind drifted away from District 2 to District 13. She tried to avoid thinking about the supposedly destroyed district; it brought back too many painful memories of her father and his death. It brought back so much anger and frustration, and _loneliness._ It was because of the Capitol's lies over District 13 that her father died and she spent the past year alone.

 _They were alive_. District 13 was alive and growing. They were never wiped out during the Dark Days, like the Capitol claimed. They had been living in secret for the last forty-five years. It made Clarke sick to think about how they could've helped them win the first war, and they could've helped them escape their suffering now. She didn't doubt that District 13 knew what was going on in Panem, but chose to not help.

Tales were told that they were one of the strongest districts before their destruction. Without them at their prime, the Capitol would've never survived the districts' attacks. The war was sparked with them. They were the leaders in the revolution – not only because they had the weapons, but because they had strong leaders.

Then, they were destroyed. With the destruction of District 13, the revolution died. The districts couldn't fight anymore, not without the weapons and the leadership from District 13. They fell in line. They were punished. _They were still being punished_.

But, all of that was a lie. _Panem was built on a lie_. District 13 has survived. After her father investigated, they found out that the Capitol _never_ tried to wipe them out. They offered them a deal; go underground and stop helping the rebels, and they would not be targeted by the Capitol again. They let the rest of the districts burn and suffer, just to save themselves.

Clarke partially understood that. She always believed that it was best to save your people. She would've done almost anything to save her people.

But was that what District 13 did? Did they save their own people, even at the expense of others?

She wasn't sure. Wasn't all of Panem their people? Weren't the rest of their districts their people? They had a pact – an alliance – a promise. And they broke it, just to save themselves.

Clarke believed in saving her people, but not at the cost of some of those same people. She couldn't imagine leaving her allies behind in the middle of a war. She couldn't imagine betraying others, just to save herself or a few others. She would rather die with those she promised to stand with than abandon them.

Clarke's thoughts were broken by the sound of rustling from behind her. Her heart jumped to her throat and she spun around to face the spot where the noise came from. Much to her horror, she could see two silhouettes climbing onto the roof on the opposite side.

A sinking feeling filled her stomach and dread flooded her veins.

 _It couldn't be…_

She felt her heart drop to her stomach as she realized who was climbing onto the roof.

It was the Careers.

Thank the gods, it was only two of them and not all four. Still, they terrified her. Every time she seen them, they looked like they were ready to kill. They were bloodthirsty and fearless. Her shoulder flared in pain – a reminder of what happened only a day before. They weren't afraid to get their hands dirty.

If they had managed to hurt her under the watchful eyes of Peacekeepers and sponsors, what would they be willing to do now that they were away from all the cameras? Her heart nearly stopped.

Since the last time they met, she paid attention to their names. Obviously, she remembered Ontari. _How could she forge?._ Her shoulder hurt just thinking of her, and a chill went up her spine from her sinister words. She had scars across her face and body, showing just how brutal she was in fights.

The male from District 4 was Cage. He looked cold and cruel, and he always wore a sneer on his face. He hadn't spoken to her yet, but she didn't need a conversation with him to know how terrifying he was. His eyes held no sympathy or emotion. He looked like a shell of a person, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Roan was the male from District 1. He didn't look as cruel as the others, but he had an icy expression, like he was detached from the whole thing. He was terrifying, but he didn't scare her as much as Ontari and Cage did.

The female from District 4 was Luna. She was interesting to Clarke – more so than the other Careers. She wasn't exactly sinister looking, which drew her attention. In fact, she looked mainly uncomfortable with the other Careers.

While Roan and Luna weren't with the other Careers that night on the roof, she couldn't dismiss them from her mind. Just as Bellamy taught her, always be looking for potential attacks. Just because she didn't see them didn't mean they weren't there.

Clarke stood taller and clenched her fists at her sides as Cage and Ontari approached her. She hoped they would ignore her, but she had a feeling she wouldn't be so lucky. Clarke didn't _think_ they would hurt her since there wasn't any fighting between tributes allowed before the arena, but she wasn't sure about that. They seemed unpredictable and wild.

Like Bellamy said, they were bloodthirsty.

Just as she guessed, Ontari lead Cage over to where she was standing. Clarke took a few steps to the right, freeing herself from the confinement of the corner. If she needed to, she could make a break for the vines on the other side of the roof.

"Hey, Princess!" Ontari greeted with a sickly sweet tone. While Bellamy had said that name earlier with warmth, the complete opposite could've been said about this greeting. Her words were filled with venom, just waiting to lash out and strike her.

"What are you doing out here?" Cage was the next to talk, his voice dipping dangerously. It made her skin crawl. His advances were tagged to Ontari's seamlessly. He lifted his front lip up in a half-smile, half sneer. " _Alone_." Ontari snickered at that.

Clarke's heart dropped. _She was all alone_. The exact reason why she loved the roof – the silence, separation and no cameras – now was putting her in danger. There weren't any cameras to catch their interaction. There wasn't anyone around to keep the Careers at bay. There weren't any Officials there to keep an eye on them.

It was just her and them.

Nobody else. No protection.

Clarke's heart was beating rapidly. If they wanted to, they could hurt her and get away with it. There would be no evidence that it was them. They weren't technically supposed to be up there, so there wouldn't be any way for her to prove it was them. And even then, she would get in trouble for being on the roof too. They could hurt her and get away with it.

Or worse.

 _They could kill her._

They could kill her and stage it as an accident; they could say she fell from her window onto the roof below. They could do whatever they wanted to her, and framed it as an accidental death.

 _Oh gods._

Even though Clarke's mind and heart were racing, she left her face completely blank. Her posture didn't waver and she tried to keep her hands from shaking. She had to look completely unfazed and fearless. The more fear she had, the more they would feed off of it. She hoped that the bullying prevention tactics she learned while growing up would be of use here.

"How am I alone if you both are here?" she quipped. She internally cringed at how lame her comeback was. Ontari looked like she wanted to laugh at the lameness too. "The whole point to coming out here was to be alone."

"Mmmmmm." Ontari's eyes narrowed. " _I_ understand, don't you Cage? Princess needs her alone time." Clarke arched her eyebrows, trying to keep her expression cool and nonchalant.

"I'm sorry; do you _actually_ think calling me a princess is an insult?" she questioned, her eyebrows raised. "You're just as much as a princess as I am, Ontari. You're both from Capitol lapdog districts." As soon as the words left her mouth, the half-smile disappeared off Cage's face. His eyes darkened and his lips curled into a snarl.

"Watch it," he snapped. Clarke was satisfied that she managed to find something to push his buttons with. It seemed that he was a little sensitive over the fact he was just as spoiled as she was – if not more.

"You know, you really shouldn't be out here alone," Ontari taunted her. She sounded like she was a predator toying with her prey moments before it's death. Clarke's hands were clammy and her mouth dry from the fear running through her veins. Still, she didn't waver. "It could be… dangerous."

"I'm _sure_ ," she replied, her tone sharp. If Ontari wanted to play, _let her._ The longer she kept talking, the more she could begin to understand the Careers.

" _Or_ ," she continued, "something terrible could happen to you." Her voice was getting lower and lower as she spoke; more and more menacing. She took another step towards Clarke, her eyes growing dark and her lips pulling back into a thin smile. "You never know someone's intentions."

In this case, Clarke was pretty sure she knew her intentions. _They weren't good._

"What do you want?" Clarke asked suddenly, jumping right to the point. She was sick of these games. Clarke took a step forward to match Ontari's, showing that she wouldn't back down. _Not now. Not ever._ It was a silent promise to herself and the two tributes in front of her.

Even though she tried to stay calm and look collected, her mind was racing, trying to come up with an escape route. She needed to get out of this situation. Every second that passed, they were looking hungrier – like wolves, circling their next meal.

She might be able to make it to the vines that lead to her room, but she wasn't sure she could race past them. They were fast runners too; was she that confident that she could out run them? Also, the vines were tricky. If she was rushing too much, she could slip and fall to her death.

She could head towards to ground – that would be safer than scrambling up the wall to her bedroom. The only problem was that she didn't know any of the paths to get down to the road below. Did she have to use vines? She had seen where Ontari and Cage had climbed up from, but she didn't know where it led.

"You know what we want," Ontari hissed in response. She reached forward to snatch Clarke's wrist, but the girl was prepared. She had been watching the Career, observing her and learning her moves.

It was a very similar situation yesterday. In the training ring, she went for her arm and pulled her in. Not only did she jar Clarke's shoulder, but it also put her in control. Clarke wouldn't have been able to run or fight back with her arm caught in hers. She had _expected_ her to do the same thing today. At least that was one thing about Ontari; she was predictable.

This time, when Ontari lunged for Clarke's wrist, she stepped backwards, pulling her arms close to her sides. The dark haired girl swiped the air, her fingers grasping the empty space she stood in only a moment before.

Her brown eyes narrowed and locked into Clarke's. They looked like ash from an erupted volcano; burning and promising destruction. Her jaw muscles were taunt and her lips were pressed tightly together, showing her anger. Clarke could practically feel it rolling off her in waves.

"Hmmmm," Cage cooed, "looks like the princess wants to play with us." Clarke stiffened.

"I'm not playing anything," she insisted, her jaw set.

Clarke had enough. It was obvious they were either trying to get in her head, or trying to hurt her. What was the point if she stuck around long enough to find out? Maybe if she tried to leave now, they would leave her alone.

It was decided. She needed to leave. Clarke stepped to the side and tried to walk away, but was blocked by Cage.

"Where do you think you're going?" He was a foot taller than her, causing him to tower over her. She lifted her chin so she could face him head on.

"Yeah, we aren't done talking with you, _princess_." Clarke was getting really sick of that stupid name. She clenched her jaw and dug her fingernails into her palm. She had never been so terrified and angry at the same time.

"I'm leaving. You two can leave me the hell alone, okay?"

She tried to take another step in the direction of the vines, but was stopped. Her arm was jerked backwards by Ontari, her ice cold hand wrapped around her wrist. Thankfully, it wasn't as forceful as the last time, but it had enough force to make her stumbled backwards.

"I don't think so. We want to have a little chat." Clarke glared at her, mustering up as much hate as possible in her eyes.

"I'm not in the mood to chat," she snapped. Dryly, she added, "maybe next time." She tried to yank her arm away, but Ontari tightened her grip. It took everything in her not to scream out in the flash of pain from her wrist. She could practically feel bruises forming where her hand clamped around her.

"Nu uh," she sang. "We don't want you running away." Ontari tightened her hand even more. Clarke could feel the circulation in her hand being cut off. Her pulse thudded painfully against her wrist. Her knees shook, straining to keep her standing.

"Fine. Then talk," she spat. Ontari smiled sickly at Cage. She looked like a victorious cat that had just caught a mouse.

"District 2," Cage said simply. "Leave them alone." Clarke laughed at that. All of this was because of the Blakes? _Seriously?_

"You're kidding, right?" she challenged, her voice strong. She flexed her fingers, releasing some pressure from Ontari's grasp.

"Not in the slightest." Ontari tugged her arm sharply again, with hopes of making her fall, but Clarke didn't stumble this time. Her feet were planted firmly to the ground. _She wasn't moving._ "We want them on our alliance."

"They belong to us," Cage added, feeding right off of Ontari. "They're Careers. They _belong_ with other Careers."

"Do they really think they have any chance of winning with you?" she sneered. Clarke was struck by their words. Did they think she was in an alliance with the Blakes? "I've seen you training. Safe to say, you aren't any competition, princess."

"Don't hold them hostage." Cage's choice of words would've made her laugh, if she wasn't so petrified with fear. "Just let them come home." Cage and Ontari's words flowed together seamlessly, like they had known each other for years, not days. They knew exactly how to feed into each other.

"I'm not holding them hostage," Clarke snapped. She hoped her hands weren't shaking at her sides. "Plus, I'm not in an alliance with them." Ontari lifted an eyebrow and tilted her head, looking childlike for a brief second. It was a harsh reminder that she was only sixteen – she was still a child.

"Hm." Her eyes flicked to Cage's, curiosity dancing in them. "Then why is he avoiding us?" She turned back to Clarke, her eyes darkening. She shook her wrist violently. Clarke bit down on her tongue to keep from crying out. "I don't buy it. Tell us the truth." Clarke tried to rip her arm out of her grasp, but couldn't. Ontari's grasp tightened again.

" _I am_ ," she pressed. "Can you let go?" Ontari was all too happy to ignore her request.

"I'm going to ask _once more_ to leave District 2 alone. All you're doing is killing them." She stepped closer, her lips lowering to her ear. "All you're doing is killing yourself." Her hiss washed over Clarke like fog on a brisk night.

 _That was it._

Something inside Clarke snapped. Her fear and reservations were stuffed to the side, her anger sparking. It wasn't the first time in her life that she felt like she _truly_ understood the flight or fight response.

If she couldn't run, she was going to fight.

"Well, if I were them, I wouldn't want to be in your alliance either," she snapped. Just as she was about to say something else, Ontari pulled her wrist fiercely, forcing Clarke to stumble towards her. For a moment, she was sure the younger girl was going to punch her.

Then, she smiled.

Ontari's eyes flicked down to her wrist, inches below where her own hand was collapsed. She lifted up her wrist and smiled.

"Nice watch," she commented lightly. Clarke's heart dropped as soon as she registered her words.

 _No, no, no, no._

That was her father's watch – the last thing that she had of him. It was the last thing she had of home, too. She had been wearing it ever since her mother gave it to her to use as a token back in District 6. She just got it back earlier that day, after she had submitted it to be looked over by Peacekeepers.

Ontari was looking at it, a flash of vengeance in her eyes. It made Clarke's chest contract tightly.

"Let go of me," she growled. The longer they argued, the louder their voices got. Clarke half-hoped that a Peacekeeper would hear them. Even though she would get in trouble, she would still be alive and her watch would be attached to her body.

"Oh, it's important to you?" Clarke's heart completely stopped. She shouldn't have said anything. "Hold her down, Cage."

With that, Cage stepped up to her and gripped her arm tightly. His fingers dug into her biceps, pinning her arms to her side. Her back was flush against his chest, leaving her no room to back away. Clarke tried to pull out of his grasp, but she couldn't budge. Ontari released her wrist and began to work on removing her watch. Her fingers were as icy as her heart, sending chills up her spine as they brushed against her skin.

Clarke's mind was racing.

"Ontari!" she growled. She could feel the girl trying to undo the collapses on the wrist watch. Panic was rising up in her chest. _No. This couldn't be happening._ "Ontari!"

"Who's watch was this?" she taunted, her voice filled with venom. "I bet it would look great on me." Clarke tried to pry her arm away from Ontari's grasp.

"I'm serious, Ontari!" Clarke felt the watch slip from her wrist. Her heart jumped to her throat. "Give it back!"

Clarke was already moving, panic and desperation rising in her chest. She elbowed Cage in the stomach, making him double over with a hiss of pain. His arms immediately flew off of her body as he bent over on himself, freeing her from her confinement. She stumbled a few paces away from him before turning her attention to the girl.

Ontari had already taken several steps away from Clarke, her back pressed against the wall. A few feet away from her body, her hand was outstretched, dangling her watch over the ledge of the building. Clarke's breath caught in her throat and her feet froze to the ground. A sick smile spread across Ontari's face.

"Be a good girl." Her voice made her skin crawl. "Stay there, or I'll drop it." Clarke grit her teeth and didn't move an inch. That was the last thing she had of her father and her home; she wasn't going to lose it to a violent tribute. " _Good, princess_." Her voice was filled with fake sweetness. Clarke desperately wanted to punch her in the face. She was usually not a violent person, but it was easy to be one in the Capitol. _It scared her._

Cage came up behind her and took hold of her arms again, pinning them at her sides. His hands were rough on her arms, digging painfully into her skin. She struggled for a moment, but froze when Ontari started swinging the watch, taunting her.

"That's what I thought," she cautioned. She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Be a good little dog and listen to your owners." Cage snickered at that. "If you're so obsessed with calling _us_ lapdogs, maybe it's time for you to learn exactly that." Her eyes glinted. "Do you want to play fetch?" Ontari shook Clarke's watch, making panic spike in her.

"Stop," she warned. Ontari tisked her, her finger waving in the air.

" _Bad dog_ ," she snipped. "You should know by now not to speak out against your owners." Cage's hands tightened on her wrists.

"A dog? More like _filth_ ," he spat. Clarke felt anger rising in her at their insults. Her heart thudded wildly against her chest.

"You're right, Cage. _She is filth_." A thin smile spread across her face. "I think she could use a bath. She still has that District 6 _grime_ on her." She snickered.

Ontari sauntered across the roof, picking a bucket filled with rain water. She turned to Clarke, a wicked smile on her face. Clarke's muscles tensed as she approached slowly.

"We don't _think_ we're better than you, dog. _We know it._ " Ontari stepped in front of her, her lips twisted into a smirk. Clarke felt sick looking at her. How could one person be so vile? "What do they say about District 6 again, Cage?" She didn't give him time to answer. "Dirty." She lifted the bucket over Clarke's head. "Filthy." Cage's hands tightened on her wrists as he stepped away from her. "Useless."

Clarke's body went completely rigid as the bucket of water was dumped on top of her. Sharp pellets of ice smashed against her cheeks, sucking the air right from her lungs. Pieces of mud tangled into her hair, just as the ice glued her eyelashes together. She sputtered as it hit her body, gasping for breath.

"Hm. _That's better_." Clarke could hear the bucket go clattering to the ground and she could feel her take a step backwards. She barely felt attached to her own body in that moment. Her whole world was comprised of forcing air into her lungs, and to keep a scream off her tongue.

"An improvement," Cage agreed.

She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to clear the dirty water from them. Her lungs refused to move, her body too shocked to carry on. After what felt like the longest ten seconds of her life, she sucked a deep breath into her lungs, calming the burning of her chest. Her hair was plastered to her face and her clothing was dripping. A cold gust of wind hit her and she grew rigid once more.

"We know about your father," he said, making he freeze in a completely different way.

 _What did they know?_

Her mind raced as she tried to process what he said. They knew about her father. Could they have put it together? Did they know he was assassinated? Did they know about District 13?

She felt sick. _Nobody_ could know about that, otherwise she and her mother would be murdered. _No. No, no, no._

"Yeah, poor little daddy died in a train accident." Ontari's tone was mocking, trying to gouge a reaction out of her. " _So sad_."

Clarke felt relief flood into her at those words. They didn't know about District 13 and his assassination. They only knew what the Capitol had told Panem about her father; that he was killed in an accident while working on a project. They didn't know the truth.

"That derailed train did the world a favour," Cage snapped. Clarke felt like she was punched in the gut with his words. _Her father did not deserve death._ "Your father was junk the Capitol accidentally funded. Nobody would have funded someone as _filthy_ as him to do research. He wasn't good enough."

"Don't talk about him," she warned, venom creeping into her voice.

It took everything in her not to lunge at Ontari and Cage. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't. The Peacekeepers made it clear; there was to be no physical contact between tributes before they were put in the arena. If any of them showed up the next morning with a black eye, there would be dire consequences.

"Just like you. _Not good enough_ ," Ontari sneered. Clarke finally got her eyes cleared enough to open them. She was standing at the edge of the roof again, dangling her watch over it, her eyes threatening. She cocked her head to the side. "I bet this was _his_ watch."

Clarke's fists tightened at her sides as she blinked the dirty rainwater out of her eyes. Her chest was tight with emotion as she struggled to contain herself. She bit her tongue to keep silent. They didn't deserve a response. They didn't deserve a reaction.

 _They weren't worth it. They weren't worth it._

"Did you have to pull it from his dead body, or was that someone else's job?" Clarke trashed in Cage's grasp, nearing the edge of no return. She knew what they were doing – they were purposefully pushing her towards anger. _But she didn't care in that moment._ "There she is," Cage cooed behind her. " _Feisty_ princess."

"Screw you," Clarke snapped, too angry to force any other words out. She tried to swing her elbow into his side again, but he held her arms firmly down. He clicked his tongue at her.

"Nuh uh. You're staying right where we want you." Clarke thrashed in his grip again.

"Now, listen, _dog_." Ontari took a menacing step forward, swinging her watch between her two fingers. Clarke's heart was hammering in her chest – both from fear, anger and adrenaline.  
"You've been some fun entertainment, I'll give you that, but let's get to the point."

"End your alliance with the Blakes," Cage demanded. Ontari's lips pulled back into a sneer.

"They're just as filthy as you, but they're one of us. We're willing to look past their failures for that."

 _Enough was enough._

Clarke focused her anger into energy and slammed her foot down onto Cage's foot. He growled in pain, releasing her arms once more. She flew out of his grasp, stumbling towards Ontari.

 _And stopped._

Ontari raised her eyebrow, waving the watch between two fingers, taunting her.

"I'd love to see you take another step," she threatened.

It would be easy for her to reach out and tackle Ontari, but she knew she would pay the price. Too many things were at risk here – her father's watch, her safety, fear of being punished by the Capitol.

They had her cornered in every way possible. If she were to lash out at them, Peacekeepers would be more than willing to make her pay the price. Raven had kicked Murphy in the ankles, and she was almost thrown in lock-up as punishment. They weren't fair to the outer districts _and the Careers knew it._

She was trapped.

She faltered in her step, freezing to the ground. Her fists clenched as Ontari smile sweetly. Another wave of anger hit her – one that she fought down. She couldn't do this. _She refused to._

"Good girl." Clarke pushed her hair from her face, wiping the dirty water out of her eyes. "Leave the Blakes, those filthy traitors, or I'll-"

"Or you'll _what_?" A new voice was on the roof, making both Cage and Ontari freeze. Clarke's heart flew into her throat from surprise. She recognized that voice – she had been thinking about his voice ever since she first heard it. _Bellamy_. "Go on, Ontari. I'd love to hear what you have to say about me and my sister."

"Bellamy, I-" Ontari's mouth opened and closed multiple times, struggling to find the proper words. While her back was still towards Cage, she could sense unease. It seemed that the two Careers were in shock from seeing him.

"Give me my watch," Clarke commanded, her eyes locked on Ontari's. The surprise from seeing Bellamy had worn off, her face quickly settling back into a sneer.

"Come get it, p-"

"That's enough," Bellamy snapped. Ontari glared at Clarke with every once of anger in her body. Clarke didn't back down from her challenge; she stared right back, her fury bubbling at the surface. "I said that's enough, Ontari."

That broke her attention. The District 1 tribute ripped her gaze away from Clarke's, turning to glare at Bellamy. Clarke followed her gaze, her eyes seeking to find Bellamy. He stood a few feet away from Cage, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Meanwhile, Cage looked terrified being caught in the crossfire between Ontari and Bellamy.

"Like I'm scared of you, _Blake,_ " she snapped, spit flying from her lips. She was seething, while Bellamy was the picture of cool. Still, she pulled the watch back in from over the edge.

"Give it back," Clarke said once again, her mind stuck on getting the watch back in her hands. She glanced back at Clarke, her lips pressed thin. She held out her hand, waiting for her to hand the watch.

Ontari scoffed and rolled her eyes. She stalked over to where Bellamy stood, brushing past Clarke's outstretched hand, the corners of her lips turning up. He held his hand out, never taking his eyes off of her. She dangled the watch over the palm of his hands, taunting him.

He reached up and grasped the object. For a brief moment, she didn't let go. She stood on the balls of her feet, leaning right up to Bellamy. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither flinching away at their proximity. Clarke was half sure that Ontari was going to punch him or kiss him.

Finally, she let go of the watch and stepped away from him. Bellamy didn't look phased as he clutched it in his hand and pointed towards the edge of the roof, in the direction the three of them came from.

"You can go now." His voice was harsh and dangerous. Ontari didn't look fazed at his words. Actually, she looked amused by the whole situation.

"We can't kill you now, but the _true_ Games start in two days," she warned. Her eyes flicked back to Clarke's for a brief moment. She felt a chill go up her spin. Whether it was from her cold eyes, or maybe it was from her dripping clothes, she tried to suppress it. All words at the tip of her tongue died at her cold gaze.

"Go," Bellamy snarled again. Ontari didn't make a move to leave. After a heavy moment, she rolled her eyes and walked towards Cage.

"Can't wait until we're in that arena," Ontari grumbled as she brushed passed his shoulder. Cage quickly followed her across the roof. Just as they were about to climb over, Cage turned to smirk at Bellamy, a smugness tugging at his features.

"I'm looking forward to hunting you and your crazy sister."

Bellamy seemed to snap at that. She could sense the change in him, quickly shifting from collected anger to burning hot rage. He stalked towards Cage, his first clenching at his sides. Clarke nearly gawked at him. _She had never seen him so angry before._

"My what!?"

He was moving quickly across the roof, darkness shrouding him like a cloak. The muscles in his jaw twitched and his nose flared, his hand curling into a fist. Clarke sprung into action at that.

He couldn't hit him, for the exact same reasons she couldn't fight back. The strictest rule for the tributes was no fighting before they entered the arena. If he broke that rule by punching Cage, there would be steep consequences.

"Hey!" Clarke stepped in the path he was walking in, effectively cutting him off. "Don't. You'll get in trouble." She tried to catch his eyes with her own, to show him her desperation, but his gaze never left Cage's.

Out of every tribute there, she knew how cruel punishment by the Capitol could be. She wouldn't let anyone she cared about suffer through that before the arena.

Ontari let out a little mocking bark and snickered alongside Cage. Clarke turned around, a disgusted look on her face. She had a dozen insults burning on the tip of her tongue.

"It looks like princess has a pet," Ontari jeered. Bellamy made another move towards them, but Clarke's hand shot out to his wrist, pulling him back. It took everything in Clarke to keep herself from joining Bellamy in fighting them.

"No," she hissed wildly. His eyes left the Careers' and locked on hers for a brief moment. Understanding passed between them. He nodded slightly, letting her know that he was in control. Without hesitation, Clarke released her hold on him and stepped to his side.

"I can't wait to put a muzzle on you," Ontari sneered. Clarke wasn't sure if the comment was directed to her or Bellamy. Either way, she was disgusted. Ontari was obsessed with being in control and having power over others. "Let's go."

"See you tomorrow, Princess," Cage called as they walked away. Clarke's fingers curled into a fist at her side. If she saw their faces one more time, it would be too soon. Unfortunately for her, she had to see both of them tomorrow during their assessments.

Ontari and Cage climbed back over the ledge and disappeared into the darkness of the night. She could hear them laughing as they scaled down the building. After a moment, their voices faded away.

That's when Bellamy turned to her, his hand outstretched, palm pointed to the sky. Sitting in the centre of his hand was her father's watch.

She smiled softly at the sight of it and reached for it. She could cry, she was so relieved. That small piece of jewellery meant more to her than she could've ever expressed in words. It was the last piece of her father, her home, and her old life. The thought of losing that last connection made her chest flare in pain.

"Thank you." Her voice was thick with emotion as she took the watch back in her hands. She brushed the pads of her fingers over the glass face of the watch, the slightest tremble in her hands. Adrenaline and a mix of emotions were still coursing through her veins.

"Are you okay?" Bellamy asked, standing awkwardly to the side. Clarke didn't look up to meet his eye, too caught up with examining the watch. He must've thought that she was shaken up from what just happened.

While she was distraught about what happened, she was mainly emotional because of her father. Even though she had a year to process his death, she still felt like she lost him only a few days ago sometimes. Almost losing that final piece of him had brought the full force of his death back onto her shoulders, crushing her under the weight.

When she didn't respond right away, he tentatively reached towards her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch unsure. Clarke felt the tension in her shoulders dissipate and her body instinctively leaned towards him, leaning into his touch.

Just the touch of another person reminded her that she was human too. She wasn't locked up anymore. _She wasn't alone._

"I'm okay," she finally responded. She slipped the watch back around her wrist, feeling warmth rise in her at the familiar contact of the leather against her skin. "Thank you," she quickly added. He nodded his head and dropped his hand to his side, burying it deep into his pocket. They fell into silence as she did up the buckles again.

Once again, she found herself being thankful for Bellamy, but for an entirely different reason than before. Without him, she wasn't sure if the Careers would have listened to her. Cage and Ontari were right; he was one of them, on some level. They would listen to him.

"Is that your dad's watch?" Bellamy asked, breaking the silence. His eyes were locked on the face of it, studying the details. She nodded her head and touched it affectionately, feeling the smooth glass once again. "It's nice."

"Thanks." She pushed it out of his view, collapsing her hand overtop of it. She didn't want to start answering questions about him or how he died. It was too complicated. Somehow, she didn't know if she would be able to lie to the man in front of her. They seemed to understand each other too well.

"Clarke, I'm sorry," he said suddenly, an unreadable expression dancing over his face. "The only reason why they're bothering you is because they seen us talking."

"It's fine, Bellamy." She pushed her wet hair off her face again, ignoring the chill that went up her spin as water trickled down her neck. "They didn't hurt me."

"Then what is this?"

He reached for her wrist and gently lifted up her arm. She could see red marks blossoming across it, from where Ontari and Cage griped it tightly. She knew bruises would be forming there shortly.

"Oh."

It was strange, how fast things had changed. Just the other day, she was flinching away from him as he helped her train. Now, he was the one she trusted enough to cradle her wounds. Compared to them, his touch was feather light as his fingers brushed against her skin. And, just like the other day, it set her skin on fire. It was almost like her skin was hypersensitive around him.

"They did hurt you," he insisted. His mouth twitched into a frown. When he glanced up to her, he didn't drop her hand from his. "I heard what they were saying to you. They-"

"It's okay. Really. I'm fine." She tried to force a smile, but he wasn't buying it. Once again, she marvelled at how they could read each other, as if it was an instinct. The truth was that she wasn't fine. Her arm burned, her heart hurt, and her emotions were in turmoil.

"I'm serious, Clarke," he insisted. He still hadn't let go of her wrist. She wasn't sure if he even realized he still had a hold on her. She didn't feel trapped, not like she did earlier with Cage. She knew she could have easily lifted her hand away any time she wanted.

"I am too." She tried to reassure him again with a smile. _Lies._ They were willing to threaten her and they weren't even in the arena yet. She felt terrified when she thought of what they would be willing to do once they were _encouraged_ to kill each other.

"What they said isn't true," he said. Once again, he had an awkward look on his face. "Just because you're from an outer district doesn't mean a thing."

Clarke wondered how much of it he heard. Did he just hear them call her a dog, or did he also her them call her filth? Her cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment.

Another realization struck her. _How much did he hear about her father_?

"How much did you hear?" she asked, voicing her thoughts.

"Enough," he said. He glanced at her, a stone expression on his face. "They're the worst of the Career districts, Clarke. That's why they're chosen for the Games. The people want a show." He sighed and Clarke frowned.

"So you heard them?" she pressed.

"I could hear through my window," he confirmed. "As soon as I did, I came, but…" He dropped her wrist, burying his hand in his pocket again. They stared at each other for a long moment. He looked conflicted as he stood a few feet away from her, like he was debating internally.

Her eyes examined him for the first time that night. She could see the truth in his words about coming as soon as he heard the commotion; he was wearing soft fabrics that hung loosely off his frame, reminding her of the style her nightclothes were. Over his nightclothes, he wore a knitted sweater. She half wondered if he was already sleeping when he was woken up by their voices.

"You're worth more than they make you out to be," Bellamy said suddenly. She smiled at him, a warm feeling blossoming in her chest.

"Thank you." She could tell he was struggling with opening up to her and addressing the insults they flung at her. "I know what they said isn't true. I don't value myself based on what others think of me." Bellamy nodded, a faint smile on his lips. They stared at each other for a long moment, before a teasing smile broke out on Clarke's face. "You're in pyjamas." Bellamy let out a burst of laughter at that.

"Gods, Clarke." He smiled widely at her, shaking his head in astonishment. "I _did_ just say I came here as soon as I heard voices. You do realize how late it is, right?" His tone was teasing, like they were old friends. A burst of wind hit her, making her muscles tense up and the smile drop off her face.

She was freezing. The ice water dumped on her clung to her body, streaming down her hair and down her back. With every gust of wind that came, she felt like the bucket of water was getting dumped on her again.

At seeing Bellamy's curious expression, she forced out a smile. "I'm fine. Just wet and cold," she said. Bellamy frowned.

"You're shivering," he said. She clenched her teeth together, preventing them from chattering. "You should get changed. It's cold." Her body was craving a warm shower and to be wrapped up in the blankets on her bed.

"Hopefully I can find clothes," she said offhandedly. "I'm usually only left what I need." Her Avox was usually very good at predicting her needs, but nobody could've predicted she would've been drenched that night.

Without further prompting, Bellamy shrugged off the sweater on his shoulders. He handed it to her, an awkward expression lifting his face. She glanced at it, surprised. He was offering her his sweater?

"Uh. Just in case you don't have any dry clothes." He buried his hand deep in his pocket – something she already noticed that he did when he was nervous.

Clarke felt her stomach flip around at his offer. Even though she was dripping wet and shivering, she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Gods, who would've thought that she would be talking to another tribute at all during the Games, never mind accepting help and sweaters from them.

She took it gently in her hands, the material still warm from his body. Their fingers brushed and Clarke couldn't help but smile the slightest bit at the contact.

What started out as an interest in Bellamy because of his skills grew into being an interest in him for his morals and unwavering strength. Now, it seemed to have grown into something more. He was a potential ally, a friend, and trustworthy.

She crushed those thoughts almost instantly.

 _No._

She wouldn't allow herself to start thinking of him as a friend. It was too risky to consider anyone more than a fellow tribute.

Her hand still tingled from where they brushed knuckles. She didn't relate those sparks to just being tributes. It was more than that.

 _No._

She wouldn't allow herself to start thinking of him as _more_ than a friend either.

They were friendly. _That was it._ They weren't friends. They weren't allies. They were merely talking because they benefited the other. They could help each other – nothing more.

These were the Games. There was no room for friends. There wasn't any room for crushes, or for flirting, or for going out of your way to help someone _just because_.

Reality was, everyone except one was going to be dead at the end of the next few weeks.

 _There wasn't any time for anything except survival._

"Watch out for them," Bellamy said, referring to the Careers. "They have a target on your back."

"I could say the same for you," she countered. "They only attacked me because of you. They want you on their team." Bellamy's jaw muscles twitched.

"Not happening. I didn't want to be part of the pack before I knew who they were. Now that I know they're bloodthirsty and desperate for kills, I would rather be turned upside down and drained for my blood than be allies with them." Clarke couldn't help but smirk the smallest bit at his description. Almost like Bellamy was aiming for that reaction, he let out a smile of his own.

It looked like the Blakes were set on their decision to not be part of the Careers.

It made sense. Bellamy had basically told her that he came to the Games to die for his sister, since he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she became the victor. He didn't plan to get out of the arena alive. The only reason why he volunteered was so he could watch out for Octavia.

Exposing themselves voluntarily to the most unpredictable and ruthless tributes in the Games went against that goal completely. They would be risking their lives unnecessarily. They both knew that they would be safer alone than with anyone else, especially when their options were the Careers.

"Well, lets hope that doesn't happen," she said, referring to his joke. "Just… be careful."

"You're the one with bruised wrists and wet clothes," he countered. "It's dangerous to be alone with the Careers." Clarke teasingly raised her eyebrow.

"You're a Career, aren't you? And we're alone." He rolled his eyes, but she could see a smile pulling at his lips.

"You know what I mean." He locked eyes with her. "Why did you start coming out here?" She knew she didn't have to answer – to divulge part of her soul to him – but she _wanted_ to.

"I like the feeling of being away from cameras and the glamour and the plastic." She wrinkled her nose. "The Capitol is so fake, but yet it feels _so_ real out here. Looking at the stars… It makes me feel like I'm normal, not someone who's about to compete in the Games."

While that wasn't necessarily the full truth, there _was_ some truth to that statement. She felt free on the roof. She felt like she had a purpose, other than being a sacrifice. She felt like she could be herself out there. The stars and the darkness was freeing.

The only other time that she could truly feel herself was when she was with Bellamy. With him, the cameras didn't matter.

Every other time, she was playing the Game. She was acting for the cameras. She was playing leader.

"Yeah, I could see that," he said, nodding his head. He glanced at the stars, a peaceful expression touching his face. "The cameras, the strategies, the mind games – it's so exhausting. Being out here, without any of that… it makes me feel like I'm back home." Clarke nodded her head, slightly dumbfounded. That's _exactly_ how she felt too.

"Home," she repeated, an empty feeling rising in her gut.

 _Home_ was something she struggled to think about. After being away from her house and her family for months, she felt like it was nearly impossible to remember what it felt like to be a daughter and a teenager. Bellamy was right though; the stars helped with that. After all, it was the exact same sky she seen when she was a child, when all was right with the world.

"But, you shouldn't be out here – not alone, at least. They could come back," Bellamy suggested. Another gust of wind hit and Clarke shivered. Bellamy looked at her, clearly concerned. She smiled guiltily.

"I should get out of these wet clothes." She pointed towards the vines to her window as a way of explanation. "And, uh…. Bellamy." She lifted his sweater. "Thanks. For everything." She hoped he understood she was thanking him for much more than loaning her his sweater.

"No problem. See you tomorrow." They both left the roof, heading for their rooms.

She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she analyzed his parting words. He expected to see her tomorrow. With those simple words, Clarke was convinced that their interactions weren't an accident. They didn't keep bumping into each other by chance. He _planned_ to see her tomorrow; he planned to interact with her.

Even as she peeled off her wet clothes, she couldn't erase the smile from her face or disrupt the light feeling in her stomach.

She knew it was stupid. She knew it wasn't rational. She knew she would regret it.

But she felt connected to him, in some way. She felt like they understood each other. Strangely enough, they understood each other much more than she understood others that she had known for longer. It felt as if they had known each other for more than several days. She didn't just understand him of a superficial level, but she seemed to resonate with him deeper.

Was their understanding what caused her to feel like they connected well? Was that why she felt like they were becoming friends?

She didn't know.

She slipped on a fresh pair of clothes that had been left out for her. She couldn't begin to understand why, but she felt slightly disappointed that she had to tuck his sweater under her mattress, away from prying eyes.

She fell asleep easily that night, her mind both buzzing with excitement and completely at peace.

* * *

 **A/N: I just wanted to take a moment to say this chapter was difficult to write! I also wanted to say that Clarke Griffin is a badass! One of my favourite things about her is she doesn't wait for help from anybody – she's willing to fight her own battles, and is willing to do** ** _whatever_** **necessary for what she deems is right. I** ** _really_** **hope I portrayed this in this chapter. She wasn't waiting around for Bellamy to rescue her, but he also couldn't just ignore a commotion going on when he could offer help. I tried to balance this and I hope I achieved it!**

 **I actually just wanted to take a second to go more into depth about this, since it was important to me as I wrote. It was difficult to balance having Bellamy help Clarke and her already having the situation under control. I based some of the context for this chapter off of 1x10 ("I Am Become Death") where Bellamy fights other delinquents to protect Clarke, and to make a space for Clarke to speak. I wanted to keep the element of Bellamy acting to support Clarke in her fights, but her still being able to fight her own battles. If that makes sense…**

 **Just wanted to make this extra clear, since I tried to be as conscious about it as I wrote! I didn't want her to come off as a damsel in distress and I hope I managed to capture this! I hope this makes sense haha. I just had a lot of thoughts while writing.**

 **Thank you for reading. I'm sorry once again for the long wait. I hope the content of this chapter and the length (almost 10000 words) makes up for it! It just takes me a long time to edit these lengths of chapters! Thanks for understanding.**

 **Thank you to all those who have left reviews, favourited, or followed this fic! Your support means the world to me. It makes my day knowing there are so many of you that are enjoying what I have written.**

 **See you in a few weeks!**

 **Paw**


	12. Chapter 12: I Am Unbreakable

**I am so sorry for the long wait. I have a little explanation written at the end.** **To make it up to you all, I'll be _triple_ posting! All chapters are around 10, 000 words so... Have fun! **

**Warnings (spoilers): there is violence and gore in this chapter. The closer we get to the arena, the more of this there will be. Of course, the level of violence and gore is kept to canon-levels (as best as I could), but if you aren't sure about this, please let me know and we can discuss this further.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **I Am Unbreakable**

* * *

The next morning, Clarke made sure Bellamy's sweater was hidden well under her mattress before she left for her assessment. Her hands shook as she remembered the previous night; the fear from being cornered by the Careers, the rage inside of her from their comments, her trust for Bellamy. _It was so much._

She couldn't begin to imagine what would happen if someone found his sweater in her room. They weren't supposed to interact outside the training centre, there would have been opportunity for him to give her his sweater. Someone would know they had seen each other outside of the training centre, which went completely against the rules. She shuddered to think what the Gamemakers would do for punishment.

She knew first hand. The Capitol was cruel and unrelenting, especially when it came to the outer districts. The thought of being shoved into isolation again, right before her time in the arena, was enough of a motivator to keep all rule breaking a secret.

She had spent that morning with Kane and Wells, discussing previous Games. It was something she both dreaded and looked forward to. It was always tough remembering the past tributes from her district, and it hurt to think about how many children had died before her. _But she needed to do it._ The need for survival made the impossible seem possible

Kane had studied what strategies had won the Games, and which ones had lost. While there were less than 50 Games, there were still hundreds of children that had went through. There were hours of footage from the Games and from interviews, most of which he had memorized from years of studying it.

She was lucky to have Kane as a mentor, even though he wasn't officially hers. Sienna was officially listed as her mentor, even though she had hardly interacted with the woman. Maybe it was for the best, since Kane really understood mentoring.

He had spent several weeks over the last few years studying all of the Games. Ever since he had become a mentor, he dove into all of the footage, desperate to give his kids an advantage, hoping one of them would come home. It must've worked, since Sienna came home under his watch.

Kane highlighted the different arenas. He looked for different mutts. He studied the different weapons. He watched for different strategies.

 _It was amazing._

That thought chilled Clarke to the bone. When did she become the person to think that studying the Hunger Games was amazing? _He was studying so they could kill other kids._

She swallowed thickly.

 _He was studying so they could survive_. That seemed to be her life for the last year; survival.

 _This was her reality now_. Killing. Studying. Observing. Acting. Pretending.

That whole morning, they talked about previous Games. With each passing day, their lives were filled with more and more preparations. It's not that Kane didn't try to prepare them before, but he increased his intensity with each day.

 _Only two days until they were in the arena._

There had been many different arenas in the past, but they always seemed to repeat portions of it. Woods, grasslands, jungle, tundra, mountains, caves, dessert, cities, underground bunkers, flame scorched forests, beaches, islands. _They had done it all_. Kane knew that they would be taking portions from previous arenas for their Games – they always did. Clarke tried to keep up with him as he described what worked best with the environment.

 _Build a fire to survive in cold environments, but don't let the smoke up into the air or you'll die._

 _Don't drink salty sea water, for risk of dehydration._

 _Don't make too much noise while stepping in burnt leaves in a burnt forest. That draws attention to yourself, and you'll die._

 _Don't walk in the open while in the dessert, you'll be too exposed._

 _Don't hide in a cave for too long, you'll be cornered and killed. If you aren't discovered, the cave will flood._

The list went on and on. In the end, he summed it up; don't do anything to risk yourself. Do everything you can to survive, but do it smartly. In any environment, there were going to be risks.

Even without other tributes, most of them would die from the elements. There were so many environmental factors that had to be considered; hypothermia, heat exhaustion, dehydration, bugs, food, poison, drowning, quick sand, lightning, storms. _The environment was more dangerous than tributes._

As Kane blew through each possible environment, he highlighted previous strategies that won the Games and things that they did to lose it.

When he started to talk about different mutts, that's when her head started to spin. She tried to keep up, but things started to blend together.

 _Hellhounds; don't let them bite you. Stab them with a blade in their weak spot._

 _Wild animals; don't run from them, they can run faster than you. Get to high ground and hope for the best._

 _Killer insects; don't let their sharp beaks anywhere near you. Take cover under something thick if you can't take them down right away._

The list continued until she thought her brain was melting. Clarke was thankful she had a decent memory from her studies; she at least retained _some_ of the information. When she looked at Wells, he looked beyond lost and stressed.

When it came to one and a half hours until their assessment, Kane sent her to get ready while he spoke to Wells. Clarke tried to ignore her nerves as she made her way to her room.

She pulled on her training outfit and tried to warm up her muscles, letting her mind wander.

She wasn't too sure what Kane would suggest she do for her assessment; the only combat skill she was _half_ good at was sword fighting, but she still struggled. She doubted he would want her to show off that talent, if she could even call it that. _Everyone_ would be doing it. Plus, she was not nearly as good as the Careers at sword fighting, so she couldn't imagine the Gamemakers scoring her favorably.

After her conversation with Kane, she stood beside Wells in the elevator as they headed down to the evaluation area. Her stomach felt like it had been punched and her limbs felt numb, almost like they didn't belong her her body. She felt like she was floating outside of herself, only watching her body move around.

 _Get it together._

She sucked in a deep breath, pushing down all of her fears. _This wasn't the time to panic._ She had to score well. _She had to._

Instead of dreading her assessment, she let her thoughts wonder to her district partner. She had been avoiding Wells ever since the incident with Bellamy. Just when she tried her best to move on for the sake of being in their final days, he ruined it. She was mad at herself for even trying to move on – _he did get her father killed, after all_. If he hadn't betrayed her and her family, then him confronting Bellamy never would've been a big deal. He had stood up for her multiple times before while growing up. They always took care of each other.

But he threw that away when he made his choice to support the Capitol over her. Now, he had to live with the consequences. She didn't want him to take care of her anymore. She barely wanted anything to do with him. He couldn't grasp that and it infuriated her.

He seemed to sense her anger at him; he had always been good at that. He hadn't tried to speak to her for the last few meals, thank the gods. She could see him glancing at her while they rode the elevator, but he was smart enough to stay silent.

They were one of the first groups to enter the waiting area. It seemed as if the lower districts tried to come early to things; this wasn't the first time that the Career districts hadn't shown up early. Her eyes searched for the Blakes and was slightly disappointed when she couldn't see them. It had become a habit to search for Bellamy's unruly hair in the mornings.

Instead, she spotted the tributes from Districts 3, 7, 8, 10, and 11. Raven, Monty, Charlotte and Lincoln were all standing together off to the side, talking in hushed tones. Clarke smiled at them and waved.

She was still surprised about Lincoln joining their alliance. When she first spoke to him, he was pretty adamant about not wanting to be part of their alliance. Charlotte must've had a few tricks up her sleeve that convinced him to join.

His words still echoed in her mind. _"I'll join, but I'll only stay if the Careers are out there. As soon as the Careers are wiped out, I'll go my own way."_ It was a fair statement to make and the Careers were more than enough motivation to find an alliance.

Her arm instinctively rose to meet her throbbing shoulder. They weren't even in the arena yet and Ontari was targeting her. Both during training and on the roof, the younger girl had managed to put her in dangerous positions.

Clarke massaged the muscle as she walked to join her alliance. Once again, she was thankful for the bruise cream in the bathroom. After slathering it on last night, the soreness and the bruising had seemed to go down, but it still hadn't disappeared.

She also used the same cream on her wrists, from where Cage had pinned her arms to her sides as Ontari taunted her. The colour was still there and clearly visible, but the pain had disappeared. She hoped that her allies wouldn't comment on the dark circles on her arms. She had managed to convince Kane that the bruises were from training, but she knew she couldn't pull the same stunt with her allies.

"Clarke!" Charlotte greeted her with an enthusiastic smile. "We were wondering when you'd get here."

"I didn't realize you guys were such early birds," she teased, rubbing Charlotte's head affectionately. She quickly ducked out of the way and scrunched up her nose.

"I hate mornings."

"Ditto, kid," Raven murmured, her face buried between her fingers. She looked exhausted. Her eyes had dark circles around them, and her shoulders were hunched up. Clarke raised her eyebrow.

She knew the girl hadn't been sleeping the best because of her mentor, but would someone really be that ignorant about her sleep? Mentors were supposed to help and support their tributes in any way possible; that included ensuring they got enough sleep.

"Another late night with your mentor?" she asked concerned. Monty groaned. His appearance didn't differ much from Raven's; his hair wasn't combed, his face was drawn, and he was blinking slowly every few seconds. He looked like he was seconds away from falling asleep.

"Don't get me started. He thought that blasting the television while we were trying to sleep was actually a good idea." Clarke wasn't sure she had ever heard Monty as bitter as he sounded in that moment.

"I can't wait to get into that arena so I can escape him." Lincoln cringed at that comment. Before anyone could say anything, she held up her hands in defense. "I'm kidding. The arena will suck."

"Yeah, have you guys thought about what we will do once we get into the arena?" Lincoln questioned. "I know you all probably have a plan already." Clarke glanced at Raven, weariness in her eyes.

"Actually… No. We don't have a plan." Clarke hated the feeling the blossomed in her chest with those words. Her team was counting on her, but she was already failing. She should've had a plan in mind. She should have discussed this with her team already.

"Well, we have two days to come up with one," Raven pointed out, sensing Clarke's negative feelings. "Plenty of time." Monty nodded.

"Plus, I guess our plan kind of hinges on how well we do today, huh? If we score high, we'll have to factor in the probability of other tributes targeting us." Clarke swallowed thickly. She didn't need to get her score to know that she was already being targeted.

"Good point," Lincoln agreed. Clarke managed a wiry smile, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Do you all have an idea what you're going to do for the Gameskeepers?" Clarke asked, trying anything to get her mind off of her unease. Her question put the group into an uncomfortable silence.

It was a tough thing to talk about. It was almost like every day they would wake up, they would be doing something new that pushed them closer and closer to fighting other teenagers in the arena. The reaping guaranteed their fate. The parade gained them sponsors. The training encouraged them to learn how to kill. The assessment would show them just how skilled they would be in the arena; how skilled they would be at killing.

The number they would be getting today would be tangible proof that they were heading into the arena. It would rank them, tell them how good they would be at killing another child. _How was that something to look forward to?_

Because that's all these numbers really were. They were the horrifying truth; some of them had changed over the last week, learning skills to kill, preparing to fight. These numbers represented that. These numbers represented them losing their humanity.

"I am thinking of doing hand-to-hand combat," Monty said, breaking Clarke away from her inner musings. She was thankful for that. She couldn't afford to think about how unfair or messed up this whole situation was. She needed to keep her mind focused and her emotions locked away. "I'm just hoping that they have someone to fight. If not, I'm screwed. You can't really show off hand-to-hand without a sparring partner." Raven nodded her head.

"Yeah, I can see how you'd do well with that," she praised. As if to show her compliment, Raven ruffled his hair. He rolled his eyes and batted her hand away. Clarke couldn't help but smile at the bond they shared. While she still didn't really know or understand their history, just seeing the two of them supporting each other was enough to lift her spirits. "What will you do if there isn't anyone there to duel?"

"I guess I'll throw an axe, or something." He sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose, allowing the mental exhaustion to overwhelm him again. "Let's all just hope that they have something to show hand-to-hand combat."

"Even if hand-to-hand doesn't work out, you were really good with the axes," Lincoln praised. "Anything with throwing; you're really good at that." Monty smirked.

"Thanks. I guess I'll get by." Monty snorted and straightened up. "Although, you don't have the same issue as the rest of us – you're amazing at everything you try!" Lincoln shrugged and his face hardened, a stone wall settling over him.

"True," Raven commented, her gaze pointed. "How _did_ you get so good?" Lincoln looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

"You don't have to tell us," Clarke promised him. "I'm sure we all have pasts we don't want to relive or talk about."

She couldn't ignore the harsh reality of those words. Her past was one she struggled with daily, but she couldn't dream about telling any one of her allies. No only would it be hard to talk about, but she _couldn't._ The Capitol had made it clear to her that if she mentioned anything about District 13 or her father's death, there would be a heavy price to pay. Her skin crawled at that. _The price of a human life._

So, yes, they _all_ had dark pasts they didn't want to share. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to share his.

"It's okay, Clarke," he responded. His face had turned weary. "My father is a Peacekeeper," he said. Those words shocked Clarke. _Lincoln came from a family of Peacekeepers?_ She always heard about those stories; Peacekeepers would settle down in the districts they were stationed at, start a family, try to live relatively normal lives. It just never hit her that one of the tributes from the outer districts would be one of their children. "He used to train all of the time with his weapons at home, to keep sharp. Eventually, when I was old enough, he started training me. _Just in case_ , he told me."

"You wanted to become a Peacekeeper?" Clarke asked, clearly in surprise. Being the child of a Peacekeeper was very different than wanting to be one. And, even though she had only known him for a day, she genuinely couldn't see him as one. He was so nice and so gentle.

Lincoln scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "No way. But, it was something to do to keep my dad happy."

Raven sighed wistfully, an unreadable expression crossing her features. "I would've done almost anything to keep my mom happy."

There was a long pause and Clarke thought about her own life. At one point, she would've done anything to keep her mom happy, too. _Then the Capitol happened. District 13. Her father being dragged from the house. Her lungs burning from screaming._

Raven shook her head, almost like she was clearing it of water. "But, enough of that. I don't want to get distracted."

Clarke nodded in agreement, letting out a shuttering breath. She tried to push her memories back, lock them away. She couldn't afford to get distracted. She had to focus. She had to be at her prime. _This_ was something she could change; she couldn't change the past. She couldn't let her past haunt her, preventing her from succeeding in the present.

"I actually plan to build something. My mentor suggested a shelter to withstand high winds, but only construct it out of a select five items." She shrugged, as if she wasn't entirely sure. "He may be an idiot half the time, but he does know how to impress the judges."

"I am doing camouflage!" Charlotte said, her excitement evident. As Charlotte continued to talk, Clarke's attention was brought elsewhere. Her eyes locked on the people that walked in the door.

 _The Careers._

Ontari and Cage stood at the front of the pack, laughing together. Only a few steps behind were Roan and Luna. Roan looked as distant as ever and Luna looked like she wanted to be anywhere but in the assessment room.

Clarke felt a shiver go up her spine.

The last time she seen Cage and Ontari, they were dumping water on her and attempting to dehumanize her. She didn't know how they found out about the story of her father's death, but she was making herself more and more angry the more she thought about what they said about him. _They were monsters_.

She wanted nothing more than to give them a piece of her mind. She wasn't known back home for being a spit fire when it came to words for nothing. Bullies quickly found out why a teenage blonde girl was the scariest thing at school.

The only reason she hadn't already yelled at the Careers was because she was playing the Game. She couldn't risk the survival of her alliance and herself by drawing attention to herself.

Scratch that.

 _More attention to herself._

The more she antagonized the Careers, the more risk she was bringing upon herself and her allies. She couldn't do that.

She tried to stay calm, but she could fell herself starting to panic by seeing their faces. They were monsters and malicious; true and simple as that. They had cornered her and threatened her for no reason, other than wanting Bellamy and Octavia in their alliance. The memory of their words and their attack made her skin crawl. If they did that much to her over a stupid alliance, she couldn't imagine what they would do while they were in the arena.

 _What would they do to her when they were_ trying _to kill her?_

The thought terrified her, which made her feel even worse. The Careers got exactly what they set out to do; to infuriate her, to terrify her, to get under her skin. _Gods,_ they played the Games so well.

She had left her father's watch back in her room seeing as they weren't allowed to wear their tokens outside of their personal spaces. She barely managed to take it off that morning considering she had almost lost it the day before. That feeling of it being lost forever had made her grow more attached to it, if possible.

To most, it was just a watch. It was easily replaceable. It didn't have much value to it. There wasn't any special gems or diamonds. It was just a watch. _It told time._

To her, it was so much more. It tied her to her dad and to her mother. It was a part of their family now, whether they decided that or not. It reminded her of those weekends that her parents would both be off. Her dad would put her on his shoulders and walk around the district. She remembered playing with the band of the watch as he steadied her body, her fingers reaching for the clouds of the sky.

It reminded her of that time that her dad taught her how to tell time. She was quite young then, maybe seven, but the memory was as crisp as any. She remembered that he sat her down on the couch beside him and held out his watch. They watched as the seconds ticked by. Each time the time would change, he would ask her about the time. While she struggled with this for a while, he was as patient as always. He never rushed her and always encouraged her.

 _That was Jake._

The watch reminded her of him – of who he was. She had to remember to stay true to herself during these Games, even if she had to adopt a persona for the cameras. _She had to be true to him._

He was patient, kind, caring, compassionate, stood up for himself and others, strong, fearless, never backed away from a fight, and believed in the good in people. That was the thing she admired most about him; he always believed that people would choose to be their best selves.

As she looked at the Careers, she had a hard time imagining that to be true. How could _that_ be their best selves? How could laughing in the face of death and torture be true to who they were?

Still, she loved that watch. It reminded her to be like him; to be as kind and as strong as he was. To look death in the face and say _I'm not afraid._ She wanted to be brave, even in the face of death, just like he was.

The watch was so much more than a watch. It reminded her of her father. Her mother. _Her family_. Her district.

 _It reminded her of simpler times._

To have that almost taken away from her shook her more than she would like to admit.

She locked eyes with Ontari. She snickered as soon as they locked eyes and whispered something to Cage. He looked towards her quickly, a large sneer on his face. Both Roan and Luna looked amused, too. Clarke frowned at the collective reaction from the Career pack. Ontari and Cage must've went back to their rooms and told their alliance members about their _fun_ time on the roof. She could already imagine how they all laughed about their comments.

She adverted her eyes, trying her best to focus on what Raven was saying. Still, she felt sick. She had an uneasy feeling in her stomach. It felt like cold hands had just run up and down her spine. Her hairs were standing on edge. Her head spun. She had every instinct in her body telling her to fight or run.

 _But she didn't._

She stood still, her muscles tensed and her fists clenched. She could hear them gossiping about her. She could hear them snickering.

 _But she didn't do anything._

In that moment, inaction was the hardest thing she could've done. Every inch of her body was crying for her to do something – _anything._

She steadied herself, sucking in a deep breath through her teeth. Now was not the time to attack. _Save it for the arena if it came to it_. She didn't have to fight them now – she didn't have to fight them _ever._ And right now, all they were doing was trying to get in her head.

 _And it was working._

The fact that she _knew_ what they were trying to do, but she couldn't stop it from happening made her even more frustrated.

She felt herself stiffen as she thought about their comments from the previous night. Who were they to call themselves so superior? There was nothing better about them, just because they came from a different district.

It didn't bother her so much that they called her names based on where she came from. She could handle that. But, that, paired with the fact that they attacked her and stole the last thing she had of her past life, was too much. _And for what_? What was the point of them attacking her? So they could convince her to drop her alliance with Bellamy?

She gritted her teeth.

She didn't even _have_ an alliance with him. Her and Bellamy weren't even friends – she refused to call them that. They were friendly and that was the extent of their relationship or friendship or alliance or whatever they wanted to call it. She didn't control his actions or his decisions. _So why did they think hurting her would convince him to join the Career pack?_

Clarke didn't understand them.

All she knew was she had to protect herself. Bellamy's warning from yesterday chilled her. He thought they would attack her again, when she was least expected it.

 _That worried her._

If he thought they could attack her, that _meant_ something. It wasn't just empty words from a concerned friend. It wasn't based off stereotypes from her allies or her mentor. Bellamy was a Career and he understood them better than anyone. If he thought it was a possibility, it was a possibility.

 _That_ terrified her. The fact that the Careers painted a target on her back for _nothing_ was horrifying. Not only was she horrified for herself, but she was worried for her alliance members too. They all knew she associated with Charlotte – what was stopping them from confronting her?

She felt sick thinking of it.

When the Gamemaker came into the room to tell them the assessments started in five minutes, she noticed Bellamy still wasn't there and neither was Octavia. All other districts had shown up. She knew she shouldn't concern herself with his whereabouts – it didn't really have anything to do with her and it wasn't her business – but she still felt her nerves spike at that. No matter what she told herself, she _did_ care about him.

Wells was already sitting at the District 6 bench when she glanced in that direction. She said goodbye to her alliance members and reluctantly went to join him.

He didn't say a word when she sat down.

 _Thank the gods._ Maybe he was finally beginning to understand her position. Maybe he was finally seeing that he should let _her_ establish the terms of their relationship after he had destroyed the last ones.

Clarke tried to put the Careers, Wells and the Blakes to the back of her mind. She didn't have _time_ to worry about them. All she could focus on was doing her best for the Gamemakes.

She had to score high to look desirable by sponsors. After all, who wanted a leader that scored poorly? She was a leader of her pack and she had to look strong enough to lead them. Even though the number did not necessarily correlate to skill, sponsors seemed to forget that.

Finally, merely two minutes before the assessments started, the Blakes walked in.

The Careers fell silent as District 2 entered, a chilling blanket being thrown over them. Ontari stared at them in hatred, her lips curled back and her eyes narrowed, while Cage looked at them in hunger, a thin smirk spread across his face. Roan whispered something to the group, which caused the other three to snicker. That seemed to break their sudden tension, and they began to whisper amongst themselves once again.

Clarke locked eyes with Bellamy as he entered. If she blinked she would've missed it, but she saw the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile. A warm feeling erupted in her chest, feeling like the warm lick of a candle against her skin on a winter's day. She couldn't help but smile back at him. There was something so infectious about watching the older Blake smile.

His eyes left hers, drifting over to where the Careers were sitting. The joy left his face, being replaced by a mask she was all too familiar with. _This was his Game face._ The one that he wore when he wasn't Bellamy Blake, but the terrifying tribute from District 2. His smile had been replaced with a frown and his chin tilted up, almost as if he was positioning his face so he could look down at whoever he was talking to.

Ontari met his stare. She scoffed when she realized he was staring at them and poked Cage in the side. He instantly turned towards where Bellamy was standing, a clouded look growing on his features.

Bellamy nudged Octavia gently in the side and gestured for her to leave. The youngest Blake slowly left his side, clearly reluctant to do so. After taking two steps away from him, she glanced around the room and smiled when she caught sight of Clarke. She began to walk over to her, her ease clearly evident.

Knowing how touchy Wells was about the Careers, Clarke stood up and walked to meet her part way across the waiting area. While she walked to meet his sister, she could see Bellamy standing tall while Cage walked over to him.

She was sent into complete dread at the image in front of her. Her heart leapt into her throat and her hands became sweaty. _What was he doing?_ Oh gods, he was going to get hurt. They both knew how ruthless Cage was; what was he doing going to him alone?

"Hey. It's okay." Octavia could clearly see Clarke's panic and reached forward, brushing her hand lightly against Clarke's. She jolted back at the content and Octavia quickly pulled back.

"Sorry," Clarke told her, her own hand coming up to grasp where Octavia's was only seconds before. She was still getting used to social touching and friendly touches. It was so different to go from a life filled with no contact to one where it was _normal_ and just part of daily life.

It didn't help that her mind had been focused on the Careers as Octavia reached for her. They made her jumpy and sparked fear in her heart after their encounter on the roof.

"No, I'm sorry," Octavia said quickly. "Are you okay?" Clarke nodded. "Okay, that's good." Both girls glanced over to where Bellamy stood with Cage, where they seemed to be having a discussion of sorts. Clarke chewed on her lip, her fear rising. "He was hoping they would take the bait." Clarke peeled her eyes away from Bellamy and turned towards his sister.

She knew they were dangerous. He shouldn't be alone with him.

"But he-"

"He wanted this to happen," Octavia told her. "Don't watch him." Octavia angled her body so she was blocking her view to Bellamy. Clarke frowned. Shouldn't they be keeping an eye on him? Shouldn't they be watching to make sure he was okay? "He's trying to play the Game," his sister insisted. Clarke arched her eyebrows. She finally looked away from Bellamy, and focused completely on Octavia.

"Huh?" _The Careers were dangerous._

"He's just trying to get into Cage's head," Octavia hissed, a small smirk on her face. In that moment, Clarke was reminded of the fact that Octavia Blake _was_ a Career. With that dark expression on her face, she looked just as terrifying as Luna did. She swallowed thickly. "We did a little digging last night after what happened on the roof." Clarke felt heat flood her cheeks, her unease forgotten.

"He told you?" she questioned. _How embarrassing_. It was bad that she was soaking wet and freezing cold after being completely humiliated in front of the Careers and Bellamy. Now, he was telling people about it. Octavia waved her hand, dismissing Clarke's discomfort.

"Not willingly," she promised her. Clarke looked apprehensive. "I seen he lost a sweater." She smirked knowingly. Clarke's cheeks blushed red again, except for a completely different reason than before. _What was Octavia implying?_

"I was cold. He was helping." Octavia looked amused at Clarke's answer.

"Mhmm. That's what he told me too." Somehow, she looked like she was telling a joke. "Anyways, he wanted to see if I knew anything about Cage's home life last night." Clarke shifted on her feet, feeling unease.

"And _did_ you?" Octavia smirked, that dark look appearing on her face again.

"Our mentor reminded us about a little stunt he pulled a few years ago," she said. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It made news around the Career districts. Let's just say, he is not against human experiments." Clarke's eyes widened and she jerked away.

" _What_!?" she asked, completely horrified. _Human experiments?_ Octavia nodded, her expression was one of disgust.

"He was busted a few years ago, helping out at a clinic experimenting on animals and humans. The district tried to cover it up, with a little encouragement from his dad." Clarke was sure she was implying money. "Yeah, there's a lot of rumors that go around the districts. Apparently, he's a troubled kid. The only reason he's not an Avox right now is because of his lovely dad and a wide pocket book."

Clarke was reminded of her family and her situation. She always wondered why she wasn't an Avox for her crimes. Was it for the same reason as Cage? Was her mother paying off the Capitol, keeping her safe? It bothered her that she doubted that she would ever find out.

"Wow," was all she could manage.

"Pretty messed up, if you ask me." Octavia pulled a face. "Anyways, Bellamy is just getting under his skin with our new information." Clarke looked shocked and felt even more horrified than before. _He was painting a target on his back with this._ How ignorant could he be!? What was the point of all of this? He was just going to get killed! Octavia waved dismissively. "He'll be fine, don't worry."

"Cage is dangerous. He's a trained killer," Clarke stressed. Octavia reached forward and lightly rested the palm of her hand against Clarke's arm. She locked eyes with her.

"So are we."

The truth in those words hit Clarke in the gut. Octavia was right – the Blakes has trained their whole lives to kill, just like the other Careers. They had trained for years to become skilled enough to use any weapon they wanted. They were trained killers and dangerous.

She'd always known that, but it was so easy to forget between the soft smiles and the light teasing. They felt compassionate and kind; everything Cage and Ontari weren't.

Octavia flashed a smile and pulled away from the stunned girl. "Plus, he just wants some payback."

 _Payback_ , Clarke thought. _What could he want payback for?_

Her eyes flicked over to Bellamy and Cage. Cage was looking uneasy, yet still hostile. Bellamy surprised her the most though. _He truly looked like a Career_. His lips were in a slight snarl and his eyes bore into Cage's. He was smirking slightly, but not that signature smirk that Clarke had come to enjoy looking at. He looked frightening; nothing like the man she knew. She turned back to Octavia, a stunned expression on her face.

"He's scary, right?" Octavia had her nose scrunched up in distaste. Clarke couldn't help but smile slightly and nod, too stunned for words. "Yeah, well, try having him growing up," she complained. "I could never date. All the boys were scared of him." Clarke let out a soft chuckle at that.

Even though the Blakes were trained killers, she was reminded constantly that they were human. _They were just like everyone else_. They bickered, they joked, they loved. They were like regular siblings. Being from a Career district and being trained for the Games didn't change their humanity.

"Somehow, I couldn't imagine boys not chasing after you," Clarke pointed out. It was true. It was no secret that the youngest Blake was beautiful. She held classic beauty; dark brown eyes, long brown hair, a toned physic.

"Could say the same about you, Griffin," Octavia joked. Clarke rolled her eyes but let out a small laugh. It felt nice teasing Octavia like this, like they had been friends for ages. It was nice to pretend like they were tributes.

Octavia let out a tiny gasp as she stole a glance at Bellamy. "Oh. He's done. I gotta go." The smile fell off of her face, returning her expression to stone. With that, the youngest Blake took off from Clarke.

She walked right up to her brother, who began talking to her in soft whispers as soon as she was at his side.

Bellamy and Clarke locked eyes again from across the room. He lifted his eyebrows, his eyes conveying a million emotions at once. He looked concerned for her, foremost. With a small smile, Clarke glanced away from him, looking towards the Careers.

Cage had returned back to the pack, completely silent and body tense. Ontari was glaring daggers at Bellamy's head, her hands curled into fists at her side. They looked like they were itching to go into that arena, if only to get revenge on Bellamy.

"You are making a mistake." Wells voice made her jump. She spun around to face him, a bitter taste on her tongue.

"What?" she asked. He stood up from his seat, crossing his arms to match hers.

"They're Careers, Clarke. They can't be trusted." She glared at him. _Here we go again._

"You don't know what you're talking about," she said, already too exhausted to have this argument again with him. He hadn't changed his opinion the first time she discussed this with him, why would he do so now? It didn't really matter what he thought anyways. It wasn't like she was seeking his approval.

"Don't I? You heard what Kane said." Clarke rolled her eyes. Of course, he would bring up the superior figure. _It was so Wells._

"I did," she said, keeping her answers short and to the point. She walked away from him and sat down on their shared bench. She just hoped that Wells would take the hint and leave her alone.

"Kane has been doing this for years. He knows things we don't. We have to trust him."

"Listen," she snapped, her patience evaporating, "there is no ' _we'_ – got it?" She could see him get uncomfortable at that. _Good_. "You have no idea what you're talking about either. You don't know them."

"What, and you do?" he countered, still drowning. "You've known him for less than a week. Do you _really_ know him? You can't trust him."

"I knew you for seventeen years, yet I couldn't trust you." He flinched at that. She felt a twinge of pain at the truth behind her words. "Time does not equal trust. I learned that the hard way."

Wells was silent for a moment. Then, he said, "Well, you need to pick your allies better." Clarke grit her teeth.

" _We aren't allies_ ," she reminded him. "Even if you were, you can't tell me what to do. I can make decisions for myself, Wells."

"I'm just trying to watch out for you. I'm trying to help." Clarke had to bite her tongue to keep for saying something she would regret. District 1 was called up to demonstrate their skills, and Clarke used this distraction as the means to end their conversation.

Clarke peered at the back of the Blakes. They sat a few benches in front of her, in deep conversation. She smiled slightly at them. While it was true they were trained killers, she _knew_ them. Bellamy was kind and had good morals, something the other Careers lacked. _She knew him._

She sent a small wave and a thumbs up of encouragement to Raven and Monty when they caught her eye. They returned her sentiment.

Cage was staring at Bellamy from the District 4 bench. She couldn't see what he was mouthing to Luna, but she seemed to nod in agreement.

Luna was one tribute she couldn't begin to understand. While she had never spoken to her and she had never acted maliciously like Cage and Ontari had, she stood beside them. Until she had any further evidence, she would have to assume Luna agreed with what they were doing, even if she looked uncomfortable. She didn't have the luxury of assuming the best in people. _If she assumed wrong, she could die._

Behind Cage and Luna was Murphy, who looked bored out of his mind. He had his eyes closed and he picked at a loose string from his pants. His head bobbed every few seconds, almost like he was listening to music. _Gods,_ that was something she hadn't done in years.

"My offer is still in the table," Wells said suddenly. Clarke watched as Ontari disappeared into the assessment room. She turned back to Wells, a blank expression on her face.

"I promised myself I would try to forgive you," Clarke told him. "I said I would do it for survival." He looked excited by her words. "But, the thing is _, I can't_. You don't seem to understand how big you screwed up, Wells. You _really_ messed my life up." His smile fell. "You didn't just get my father arrested – _you got him killed_. You didn't just get me in trouble – you got me put in isolation _for a year_. I lost _everything_. My friends, my family, my education, my freedom. And now I'm going to lose my life, or at least my humanity. So, no Wells, I'm not going to be able to forgive you. I'm not going to be able to move on – not until you truly try to make up for what you did."

"But I am," he insisted, desperation in his voice. "I'm here, aren't I? I didn't want you to die without knowing that I am sorry."

"I never asked you to come. I never asked you to volunteer in the Games." He shook his head.

"I never said you did." He rubbed his face in frustration. "I'm not saying this right." He groaned. "I'm truly sorry for what happened. I'm sorry my father found out. I'm sorry that your dad died. I'm-"

"He didn't just die. He was murdered," she hissed. Her voice was so low that he had to strain to hear it. She hoped the cameras weren't on them while she spoke. Just in case they were, she talked quietly. Wells nodded.

"I'm sorry that happened. I'm sorry that my mistakes cost you so much." He paused again, pain washing over him. "I'm _sorry_ , Clarke. I really am."

She pondered her words. She could sense he was sorry; she never doubted that. It was how he acted towards her, pretending that nothing ever happened. It was how he tried to pick up their relationship like nothing had changed.

Just as she was about to reply, she seen Bellamy stand up. She snapped her mouth shut and glanced at him. As he walked out of the waiting area, they made eye contact.

Brown met blue for a brief second.

Then, _he was gone_.

She hoped he would do well. She knew that he didn't lack talent or abilities, but she had no idea how he performed under pressure.

She assumed he was a good performer, seeing that he had made it to the Games, which was an impossible task in the Career districts. He had to _earn_ his spot as tribute. It wasn't randomly assigned like it was in the outer districts. He had to work hard for it and be nominated for it.

She turned back to Wells. They locked eyes.

"I know," she said finally. _I know you're sorry._ "But I can't forgive you. Maybe one day. Maybe if I had time. Maybe if I knew why." Her voice broke. She cleared her throat, refusing to allow herself to be overwhelmed by emotions. "But not here. Not right now." She needed to focus and clear her mind.

"Okay. I'll explain it one day." The fact that they only had a few days left of their lives hung heavily over them. _That one day would never come._ Both of their lives would be cut too short.

Clarke turned away from him, glancing towards Octavia. The two girls seen each other. Octavia sent her a smile, which Clarke returned. Octavia glanced at the timer above the door, before deciding to get up from her seat. She quickly ran across the room, ignoring the many sets of eyes on her as she did. Once she got to where Clarke sat, she crouched beside her.

"It worked," she said. Her eyes flicked to Wells for a brief moment, almost as if she was evaluating if he was going to cause a problem or not. Wells scoffed and looked away, clearly not impressed. Octavia scrunched up her nose before glancing back at Clarke.

"Good," Clarke replied. It gave Clarke a warm feeling in her stomach that she could be trusted by these people. Octavia told her a piece of information only a few people knew about Cage; she let her in on a piece of their strategy. The Blakes trusted her.

 _Just like she was beginning to trust them._

Octavia leaned in closer and wiggled her eyebrows. "He did it because of you," she said with a snort. Clarke scoffed at that. _Of course he didn't_. "I'm serious! He was so pissed yesterday."

"He would've been for anyone," she insisted. It had nothing to do with their friendship or whatever it was called. He had good morals and he wouldn't have stood idly by if someone was getting attacked. He would've helped anyone. "Bellamy seems to be that type of person." Octavia shrugged, clearly not believing Clarke's words.

"I don't know. You don't know him as well as I do." Well, that wasn't a lie. Clarke could admit freely that she barely knew the guy. "Oh, I'm up. Wish me luck!" The timer hit zero above the door and Octavia sauntered out of the room, heading to the assessment area.

As soon as Octavia's back was to her, Clarke couldn't keep the stupid smile off her face.

Had he really done that for her? _Why would he do that_? They weren't friends – they weren't even allies. Why would he paint a bigger target on his back in revenge for her? Octavia seemed to believe she was the reason, but she couldn't begin to understand why.

Even as she watched Raven, Monty, Cage and Luna enter the assessment area one at a time, her smile didn't fall.

"I don't trust them," Wells broke the silence after District 4 had been called into the assessment area. Her smile fell. "They're playing the Game, Clarke, they-"

 _She was so sick of this back and forth._

"Just don't," Clarke hissed. Murphy entered the assessment room.

"I'm _trying_ to help. I want to help, if you'd just let me. I'm-"

"I don't want your help, Wells. Leave me alone," she snapped. He held up his hands in defense.

"You'll see. They're just Careers."

Clarke grit her teeth in annoyance. Why couldn't he understand that she didn't really want his opinions? _But now was not the time to argue_.

Instead, she focused on what she was going to do for the Gamemakers. Her and Kane came up with a plan earlier that morning, but she still needed to work out the finer details on her own. She just hoped it was enough to get a good score. _She needed it._ She needed a high score so bad.

It only felt like moments later that Wells was getting up from his seat. He flashed Clarke a weary smile. Clarke was instantly sucked back to years ago, when they would sit beside each other before heading into exams.

 _Back to when it was simple. Back to when they were friends._

"Good luck," she felt herself say on pure instinct. He froze and turned to look at her, a touched expression on his face.

"Thank you. You too."

Then she was alone on their bench. She stole a fast glance behind her. She could see Charlotte and Lincoln a few benches away, each in their own worlds. Charlotte looked tired and scared. Usually, she swung her legs when sitting down, but, this time, she was sitting completely still. Lincoln was talking to her, which made her smile. She was glad that those two were close. The young girl needed someone to help her along.

She glanced at the timer above the door. Her heart plummeted to her stomach when she read that only a minute remained until the next person would be up to compete.

 _Her._

She sucked in a deep breath and forced her heart rate to slow. She couldn't afford to get nervous. If her hands shook while she was trying to perform, she would slow down, and she needed every second available.

 _Calm. Calm. Calm._

She tried to think of happier times – simpler times. _Her mother's smile when she got off of work. Her dad's laugh when she forgot eggs in the cookies. Wells' hand against her back, pushing her higher and higher on the swing. Raven's laugh when her knot got tangled. Monty's voice as he complained about his mentor. Charlotte's bounce as she watched other tributes practice. Bellamy's praise when she managed to swing the sword correctly. Bellamy's skin, glowing under the moon on the roof._

The timer hit zero.

 _It was time._

She pushed all of her emotions away. _Now was not the time to be nervous_. This could potentially gain her a lot of sponsors, or lose them. Without sponsors, her alliance wouldn't get far.

 _She needed this. She needed sponsors._ Her team was relying on her.

She threw her shoulder back and remembered Kane's words.

Confident. Not cocky.

Leader.

Compassionate.

Strong.

 _Unbreakable._

She walked into the large empty training room. Her footsteps echoed as she made her way towards the centre of the room, her skin crawled as all of the Gamemakers observed her. Quickly, she surveyed the area. They had what she needed on one table and she could see a sword on one of the stands.

 _Perfect._

On the opposite side of the room, the Gamemakers sat, their gaze calculating and judging. They were silent as they stared at her, waiting for her to make a mistake. They were studying and evaluating her every move.

She took Kane's advice and smiled at them, trying to earn some points for sweetness and confidence. She wasn't going to shy away from anything – not the Games, not any obstacles, and not them.

 _She would not be broken._

She stopped in the centre of the room. There were seven Gamemakers in total watching her. Each held a plate of food and a drink in their hands, a notebook forgotten at their feet. Several of them whispered amongst each other as they got better looks at her.

"You may begin."

As soon as those words were spoken, she flew into action. She only had a few minutes to show her skills and impress the Gamemakers. She had to move quickly if she wanted to compete the routine.

She walked over to the display of weapons and chose the sword. She didn't bother balancing it or making sure she was holding it properly. She had other things to set up before she would actually be using it.

She walked over to where a mannequin was thrown across on a table. She traded her sword for that, hauling it onto the stand a few feet away. Once she had the mannequin positioned and standing, she walked over to the additional supplies area.

Her mind was buzzing, trying to do too many things at once. She tried to focus on her thoughts pertinent to the current situation, organizing them into step-wise fashion. She grabbed several needles and suture kits, and headed back to the mannequin.

 _She was ready._

She glanced at the clock hanging and felt relieved when she panicked she had several minutes left. If she was lucky, she would be able to get everything done that she wanted to.

She quickly ran through the steps Bellamy taught her when holding a sword. It seemed that the more she did it, the better she got.

She balanced the weapon, finding the perfect spot to hold it in. Then, she loosened her grip on it, so it moved freely in her palm. She crouched low and angled her feet to escape.

Then, she lunged.

She jumped forward, her sword coming up in a high arc. She ripped her arm across her body, trying her best to twist her hips and follow through with her shoulders.

She felt the tip of her sword connect with the mannequin in exactly the spot she wanted it to.

Her sword cut through the mannequin, splattering red dye everywhere. _She wasn't expecting that._ In training, the mannequins had been solid all the way through. _Now, they were filled with dye._

Blood, she realized. _They were trying to imitate blood._

It almost made her want to get sick, but she pushed that away _. Now was not the time_. She couldn't afford to be disturbed be the sight of red dye while she held a weapon. _No. She couldn't._

There was a wide slash across the mannequin's stomach, spilling red dye everywhere. The fake blood was pooling at her feet, soaking into her shoes. She could feel it coating her body, from where it sprayed when her sword connected with it. Her hair was plastered to the sides of her face and the front of her shirt clung to her skin.

 _No time._

Instead of continuing to demonstrate her abilities with swords, she switched tactics. She knew she wasn't the best at sword fighting, it wasn't a secret. She had _just_ learned how to do it only a few days ago, and practiced a handful of times. There was no way in hell that she was going to come close to the skill level of a Career. There was no way she would score well with mediocre-at-best sword skills.

The one thing she did know how to do was _fix people_.

She had watched her mother do it her whole life. She had been in school, training to become a medic. She knew what to do, or, she knew the basics of what to do. While she wasn't good at fighting or killing, she knew she was good at healing and saving.

 _That_ was her skill. _That_ was what she could bring to the arena. Where people wanted to see death and destruction, she would bring life.

 _That_ would be her legacy.

Clarke placed the sword back on the table and picked up the medical supplies that she had gathered. She walked over to the mannequin and lowered it to the floor, her eyes scanning over his injury.

 _Two minutes left._

She got to work, deciding she would have to think on the spot as she worked.

She took sterilized gauze and wiped up the spilling blood from around the wound. She put pressure on the cut, stopping the bleeding. While one hand was pressing on the mannequin's stomach, the other was working on gathering the items needed for stitches.

She managed to rip open the package of the needle with her teeth and her one free hand. She cringed; she knew it was not the cleanest way, but if this was out in the arena, they would be in a life or death situation. She wouldn't be thinking about staying clean, she would just be thinking about staying alive.

Clarke removed the pressure from his wound to loop the suture thread through the needle. It didn't take too long, having done this dozens of times growing up. _This was familiar._

She turned to the wound and began to stitch the mannequin back up. As soon as she began to work on it, her memories came flooding back. Her hands moved on their own, almost like they remembered exactly what to do. She didn't have to think about how she was moving; all of the knowledge was _there_. It was almost like her body remembered exactly what to do.

She glanced back up at the clock. _One minute left_. Her heart jumped to her throat and she began to work faster.

She finished the stitch as fast as she could. She would admit, it wasn't the prettiest job, but it got the job done. The bleeding had stopped for the most part and the wound was sealed.

She had 30 seconds left. Clarke reached beside her, pulling out more padding and gauze. She ripped open the packaging and slapped it onto the mannequin's body, no longer caring about appearance. In the final few seconds, she wrapped the material around his torso multiple times and tied it off.

The buzzer rang. Clarke lifted up her hands and took a step back from the body. Her fingers shook as she held them above her head, her body buzzing from the adrenaline.

She glanced down at the mannequin. Internally, she was satisfied. It had been a year since she did any medical care, yet she still remembered it like it was only yesterday.

"You may now leave."

Clarke's smile wavered the slightest. Weren't they going to give feedback? Weren't they going to give any comments at all?

She brushed it off. She would have to wait until later that night to find out the results. _Waiting would be torture._

With that, she left the assessment room with her clothing soaked and her hands dripping with red dye.

* * *

 **I'm sorry for the lack of Bellarke in this chapter! I really wanted to touch more on Octavia and Clarke, since their relationship has been missing. Also, I really wanted to explore the conflict with the Careers more. Things are starting to form into a web now that more and more characters are getting involved!**

 **I wanted to explain why I haven't updated in a long time. I've actually been updating this fic solely on AO3 (you can find me as Pawprinter there). I've been slowly making the transition from this site to AO3 and wanted to test it out. I decided I would publish the next few chapters for this fic here and then make a further decision down the road. I'll keep you fully updated on this situation, and if you want to talk about it you can reach out on my Tumblr or Twitter.**

 **Bellarke Fanwork Awards:** Since the last time I've updated here, I've been nominated for the Bellarke Fanwork Awards 2018 on Tumblr! It's completely fan run, so I wanted to take a quick second to say a huge thank you for nominating my fics! I was lucky enough to have 16 of my Bellarke fanfictions nominated (oh my goodness). After several rounds of voting, we are now on the semifinal round! **I have five fics nominated for the semi-finals!** _Including this fic!_ If you've enjoyed this fic, feel free to go vote! Voting in this semifinal round are open until 11:59pm EST today (just under 24 hours to vote!). **Since this A/N is running long, I'll post more details about this in the next chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Paw**


	13. Chapter 13: The Problems with Trust

**Yay for double (and triple) updates!**

 **I just wanted to take a quick moment to explain what I mean when I say "edit." For other fics, this meant reading over my work to check for spelling and grammar mistakes. When I say I "edit" these chapters before posting for this fic, it usually means I'm writing the fine details and missing pieces. For example, when I started editing earlier today, this chapter had a word count of just under 5000 words. After filling it out more, over 5000 words were added! I guess I just wanted to quickly explain why editing takes me so long haha.**

 **Warnings (spoilers): this chapter talks about blood and gore, violence, killing, events in the arena, and recalls the bullying/torture/dehumanization for chapter 11 (where Cage and Ontari cornered Clarke). If you have any questions about this, please reach out and I'll happily discuss.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **The Problems with Trust**

* * *

Clarke tried wiping her blood red hands onto her pants, but the cloth was so soaked that it just smeared more. She frowned and stared at her hands, a wash of disgust rolling over her.

 _It made her sick._

Even though it was fake blood that coated her body, it was a shocking reminder that her hands would be covered in _real_ blood within the next few days. She would have to fight people. She would have to kill people.

 _She would have to kill people._

The thought made her mind spin and her heart freeze solid. She couldn't imagine what kind of person she would become once she entered the arena. She couldn't begin to imagine the horrific acts she would have to commit for the sake of survival.

 _Was it really survival if she lost all of her humanity?_

She wasn't sure. Would she feel human if she ever got out of that arena?

Clarke rubbed her hands on the back of her black shirt, thankful that it managed to take away some of the fake blood. She couldn't wait until she got back to her room to shower, the warm water taking the fake blood and the horrifying thoughts away.

She felt like she was going to sick any second. She was going to have to fight teenagers to the death. She was going to have to kill. She would have to take someone's life – someone's brother or sister, son or daughter, friend. _A human._ She was going to have to take a human life. Someone's spark would be gone from this world, and it would be her doing.

 _And for what?_ For her survival? So she could continue to live? So she could assure her allies would continue to live?

What made her better than any of them? What made her more deserving of life than the other twenty-three? The same could be said for all of them. They were all teenagers – didn't they all deserve to live?

 _She was going to become a monster in two days._

She could barely stomach the thought.

Clarke gasped as her arm was caught in someone's grasp. Before she could see who it was, she was pulled to the side. She stumbled into an empty hallway, smashing into the body that pulled her there. Her hands flew to his arms to steady herself while her feet met the solid ground.

"You've been busy," he remarked, referring to the fake blood all over her. Clarke pushed herself away from him, a smile already itching its way into her face. All of her thoughts about death and killing and survival vanished when she heard his voice.

She burst out laughing when she seen him. Bellamy was covered in the fake blood as well, from head to toe. It seemed to have hit his face and trickled down his throat and the front of his shirt. It didn't take much for Bellamy to join in on her laughs.

"We look ridiculous!" Clarke said between giggles. She didn't know why she was laughing. The whole situation was disturbing; being covered in fake blood was nothing to laugh about. But seeing Bellamy in the same state as her sent her into a fit of giggles. Everything was so much – _too_ much – that she needed to laugh about it to deal with her impending doom.

"I'm guessing you used a mannequin for your assessment?" he asked. She nodded her head, her laughs quickly dying in her throat. "Same here. I didn't know they would fill them with dye."

"I don't think anybody did," she said. They were silent for a moment as they caught their breaths. "What's going on?" she asked, referring to the empty hallways they were in.

Glancing around, she realized it must've been a servant's tunnel, as it wasn't adorned in nearly as much gold as the rest of the training centre was. It was completely empty and dark, like wherever this tunnel led had sucked all the light from around them. Feeling uneasy, she shifted towards him.

She was startled by the fact that when she was nervous, she instinctually moved towards him. _When did Bellamy Blake become her safe space?_

"I wanted to talk to you," he said. His voice dropped into a whisper and he took a step towards her. Once again, her heart fluttered in a strange way. She tried to ignore it. _You're nervous. It's adrenaline._ Nothing more. "Are you okay?" Still, she couldn't ignore the warmth that filled her body with his concern for her.

"It's just fake blood. I'll be fine." She waved her hand, dismissing his concern. He shook his head, a gentle look in his eyes.

"No, I'm talking about _you_. From last night. Are you okay?" Clarke's smile faltered and her hand automatically went to block the bruises on her wrist. His eyes widened the slightest bit when he caught sight of her injury, but he didn't make a move to remove her hands. "Clarke?" She could've sworn she had never heard another human sound so tender before. It threw her off balance.

"I'm okay," she assured him, hoping that same tenderness he possessed was in her voice. "My arms look bad, but they're not sore." He didn't seem convinced, based on the fact he kept glancing towards her bruises. "They didn't hurt me – not really, anyways."

"Someone doesn't need physical weapons to hurt people," he pointed out, a guarded look on his face. She grimaced. She didn't need his pity or his worry. _She was fine._ And he had other problems to worry about; his survival, his sister, his strategy.

"They're just jerks," she sighed. She couldn't help but feel like her words were an understatement. _They weren't just bullies. They were monsters._ What kind of person attacked another tribute before the arena, solely based on the fact they were from an outer district and had a potential ally they wanted? "But I'm fine. _Really_."

Bellamy still didn't look convinced. She noticed how his eyebrows pushed together as he studied her, how his pupils were dilated to accommodate for the darkness, how his forehead was creased in thought.

She swallowed thickly as she was reminded just how attractive the District 2 tribute was. This wasn't the first time she noticed him in this light either. _In fact, it was becoming more and more common._

"I seen the way you were looking at them," he said finally, breaking her away from her thoughts. "You're scared." She stumbled back a step, blinking rapidly, mouth agape. She was at a loss for words. She didn't really know how to respond to that. He wasn't wrong, but she didn't really want to admit that to him. _She didn't want to admit that to anyone._ It was a weakness and weaknesses only got you killed in the Games.

"I wasn't," she insisted, her voice trembling. Bellamy's gaze softened when he realized just how thrown she was by his comment.

"If you say so," he said. "But, I _thought_ I seen someone who was scared and worried." Clarke shook her head, her chin held high. _She wouldn't show this weakness. Not to anyone._ "It's okay to be like that," he insisted. Clarke knew her strong act wasn't working. If he seen her like she seen him, he would be able to see through her walls. _That's what she did with him._ She seen the man under the masks. "Even the best warriors get scared."

 _That's_ what broke her walls.

"That's the thing, Bellamy. _I'm not a warrior_." The words tumbled out of her mouth without much of a thought. "I've never fought _anything_ before in my life. I- I don't take lives. I don't kill people. I don't fight people. _I don't._ I want to save them." She realized that she was saying too much. She clamped her mouth shut and glanced up at Bellamy, judging his reaction.

He looked pensive. His eyes looked distant, like he wasn't entirely focused on her. Rather, he was trying to muddle through his own thoughts.

"You might not be a fighter, but that doesn't mean you aren't a warrior." Finally, they locked eyes again. "You're a warrior, Clarke, in every way." His voice had changed slightly as he spoke. Maybe she was just imagining it, but she could've sworn that he sounded almost affectionate when talking to her. Her chest tightened, her emotions bounding out of control with this sudden closeness. "You're human, too. It's okay to be scared."

"These Games make me feel like I'm not human," she muttered, suddenly feeling braver and more open. Her lips quirked up. "Plus, _you're_ the one telling me it's okay to be scared, but you're the most fearless person here." Bellamy let out a small laugh at that.

She liked his laugh, she decided.

"I'm scared," he said. " _Terrified_."

Clarke quieted at that. She didn't dare respond, too afraid that he would stop talking once she did. She wanted to know more about him. Even though she felt connected to him on an emotional level, more than she ever felt with anyone before, she didn't know too much about him.

"I have trained my whole life for this, but I am absolutely terrified." He shifted on his feet and adverted his eyes, looking over her shoulder. He seemed uncomfortable talking about it. _She didn't blame him._ Opening up about anything was always tough, never mind talking about a weakness to a potential enemy. _Yet, he continued_.

"I'm not worried for me. I mean, in a way, I am. I'm terrified of death; I'm sure everyone here is. But I didn't come here, thinking I would or planning to win. I didn't come here, expecting to become a victor, head home afterwards, live life as a victor. _That isn't me_. I came here to help Octavia; to protect Octavia.

"And I just keep thinking to myself… _what if I don't do that_? What if I'm not strong enough for whatever comes our way? What if I'm not as trained as everyone thinks I am? What if I fail, and she…" He struggled to get the words passed his lips. He opened and closed his mouth several times, wrestling with his inner demons. " _What if she dies_?"

Clarke reached forward, her hand lightly grasping his forearm. It was almost like she was moving on instinct, drawn to him to provide comfort and reassurance in whatever way possible. His eyes snapped back to hers. She could feel his pain radiating off of him in waves and she _felt it._ She understood this pain too well. _The pain of not being good enough. The pain of losing family. The pain of the unknown._

She tried to put all of her thoughts – all of her emotions – into her eyes. She knew that words would fail her right now. She knew she wouldn't be able to convey to him that she understood, at least in some ways.

She knew what it was like to worry about losing someone you loved. When she lost her father, the feeling was worse than she could've imagined. She knew what it was like to blame their deaths and the loss on herself; she did it when her father was murdered and she was thrown in jail.

 _I understand._

 _I know._

 _You can trust me._

She hoped he understood what she was trying to convey through her eyes. She hoped that he knew that she understood what he was getting at.

"I understand, Bellamy. Or, at least, I can imagine. You've risked everything for her. Every thing that you have done has been for her." He nodded and cleared his throat. "You're enough, Bellamy. You'll be enough, when the time comes." _When the time comes to fight, you'll be enough._

"I am scared too, Clarke. Of losing the Games. Of losing Octavia." He shifted on his feet again, the feeling of awkwardness overwhelming him. "Of _dying._ " Clarke nodded. _She understood that too._ No matter how much she thought about her death, she didn't think she would ever be ready for it. No matter how long she had to prepare for it, she doubted she would go without a fight. _She would fight for her survival until her dying breath,_ even if she knew living was nearly impossible. "So, it is okay to be scared. This is the Games. I've trained my whole life, but I'm still terrified."

"I am," she said. "I am terrified." His eyes seemed to convey the feeling of understanding. She felt calmer looking into them, knowing he understood what she was going through. She felt that it was always easier to experience hardship when someone was there beside her. "I've thought about death a lot, but I know I'm not ready to die." _I know I'm not coming out of that arena, but that doesn't mean I won't fight._ Instead of saying that, she changed topics. "The Careers… they're beyond what I imagined they would be. They're cruel, mean, and horrific. And we aren't even in the arena yet."

"Watch it now, I'm a Career too," Bellamy teased, trying to lighten the mood. He accomplished just that and the tension diffused from her shoulders. Clarke smiled and rolled her eyes jokingly.

"You're different," she insisted. "But I'm _okay_. Really, Bellamy. They can pour water on me, call me names, drag me around – I don't care." It was true. Even though she was pissed off and upset, she refused to let their actions get to her. _That ended now._ That was exactly what they wanted and she refused to give them that satisfaction. She couldn't let them in her head.

"Thank you for yesterday, Bellamy," she said again. "The one thing I would never forgive myself for is if something happened to my dad's watch." She realized she was still touching his arm. She dropped her hand slowly, reluctant to give up the comfort she got from his touch. "Thanks. For the watch. Again." Her words seemed to get stuck in her head.

"You're welcome."

Clarke thought back to that night on the roof, her mind spinning around their words.

 _"_ _If you're so obsessed with calling us lapdogs, maybe it's time for you to learn exactly that. Do you want to play fetch?"_

 _"_ _Bad dog. You should know by now not to speak out against your owners."_

 _"_ _That derailed train did the world a favour. Your father was junk the Capitol accidentally funded. Nobody would have funded someone as filthy as him to do research. He wasn't good enough."_

 _"_ _You've been some fun entertainment, I'll give you that, but let's get to the point. End your alliance with the Blakes. They're just as filthy as you, but they're one of us. We're willing to look past their failures for that."_

They knew where to hit her where it hurt the most. _Her father._ They knew of her connection with Bellamy and they targeted that.

She swallowed thickly, turning to Bellamy. Seeing him standing in front of her brought her back to the present, reminding her that _they were just trying to get in her mind._ This was here. This was now.

"Octavia said that you had leverage on Cage?" she asked. He smiled a half smile, his eyes darkening. Both him and Octavia got the same expression on their faces whenever they spoke about their little revenge plot against the other Careers. They looked cunning and dark and _like a Career._

"Yeah. Octavia and I dug up some rumors about his past." He shot her a look. "I'd suggest steering clear of him. Octavia told you about his human experiments?"

"A little." Bellamy pressed his lips together. He looked sick just thinking of them.

"The rumors said that he worked in a lab that harvested blood and bone marrow from humans." He frowned. "It was never really stated _who_ he was harvesting from and why, but there were plenty of speculations. Some said he harvested from those in his district. Others said he targeted those from outer districts." He swallowed thickly, wringing his hands together. That was one habit Clarke had picked up on; when he was nervous, he either shoved his hands in his pockets or fidgeted with them. "I don't think he'll be bothering you again. Well, at least not until the arena." Clarke lifted an eyebrow.

"You did this for me?" She seemed to catch him off guard with that question. His eyes widened the slightest bit and his hands froze. After what felt like the longest second, he let out a soft chuckle and a wiry smile.

"Uh. Yeah. I did it for you."

It was almost impossible to rationalize, but she _felt_ something. Her stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies and her heart felt like it could beat out of her chest. _She felt affection._

 _He did it for her?_

Somehow, it didn't seem possible that someone would be going out of their way to help her. _To protect her_. She didn't come to the Capitol thinking anyone would want to be involved with her or risk their own safety for her. Out of every tribute there, she assumed he would be the most likely to want to help her. After all, _he was only there for his sister_. He wasn't there to make friends. He was the jerk from the elevator, the cocky teenager in a Roman costume _._ He was a Career, a stone-cold killer, and ruthless.

 _It felt impossible._

It was impossible that out of everyone she had met in the last year, he was the most willing to help. He was the most supportive person in her life; he never judged her for his mistakes, never regarded her with mistrust, never looked at her like she was dangerous, never thought poorly of her because she was from an outer district.

Bellamy Blake had become her pillar over the last week, helping and encouraging her in more ways than one.

 _The sword training._

 _The words of advice._

 _The talk of strategy._

 _The laughs._

 _The shared expressions from across the room._

 _The friendship that had somehow developed._

 _The protection on the roof._

 _The sweater when she was cold._

 _The concern for her wellbeing._

 _Risking himself so he could get some revenge on the Careers._

 _And now, this._

Bellamy Blake completely baffled her. He was the opposite of everything he was _supposed_ to be. Compassionate where he should be heartless. Caring where he should be cold. Protective where he should be a hunter. A friend where he should be the enemy. She didn't understand him and she doubted she ever would. Why would a complete stranger risk everything, just to help her?

 _She would do the same for him, she realized._

When he was confronting Cage earlier that day, her instincts told her to go to him – to _help_ him. Her first instinct was to stand by his side, to show solidarity and strength with one front.

When he was struggling with identifying plants, she postponed her own training to help him. She wanted to help him succeed; she wanted to give him the skills to survive.

When she was feeling like the weight of the world was going to crush her, she took a step back and laughed with Bellamy. He was the one there with her, struggling to come to terms with the horrors of the Games. He was the one beside her, his support building her up, his words soothing her mind. She was the one beside him, encouraging him to open up, helping him get through the Games with some feeling of normality.

He was a complete stranger only a week before, yet she had risked so much for him. She risked so much, and she knew she would do it over and over again if she had the chance. _Her safety, her training time, her heart._ She knew they if he ever needed help, she would be willing to give it.

He was a stranger. He was supposed to be the enemy.

 _Yet she never felt like this before._

She never felt like she could talk to someone like this; she never thought she could be so open and so vulnerable with _anyone,_ never mind a tribute from District 2. She didn't believe that she would be able to laugh and joke and smile only days before she entered the arena, yet Bellamy made it possible. He soothed her soul where it was in turmoil. She didn't think that she would feel a connection to anyone; at least not one strong enough that she was willing to risk herself for him.

It scared her.

 _It scared her more than anything else scared her._

She trusted him. No matter how hard she tried to change it and ignore it, she thought of him as more than a stranger. _He was a friend,_ despite her best efforts to squash that.

She could feel it inside of her; she felt comfortable around him. In fact, the safest she _ever_ felt while in the Capitol was when she had been with him.

 _No._

That wasn't correct. The safest she had ever felt in the past year was with him. Ever since her father discovered District 13, her life had been filled with moment after moment of pain and mistrust. She had experienced betrayal and loss like she had never felt. Most nights in her cell, she would lay awake, wondering if _that_ would be her last day. Would the Peacekeepers come to her cell that day? Would they finally have the order to take her away – to silence her for good?

Her life was filled with constant fear and the constant need for survival. _Surviving the reveal of District 13. Surviving Wells' betrayal. Surviving her father's death. Surviving the crushing loneliness. Surviving her imprisonment. Surviving the reaping. Surviving her training._

 _Survive, survive, survive._

But, with Bellamy, she could _breathe._ Her life didn't revolve around survival and making it to the next day. Her life revolved around _living_ and enjoying the simplest things that came with their time together.

When they were together, _it was just them_. They weren't tributes for the Games. They weren't two teenagers from different districts. They weren't training to kill their peers. They weren't acting for the cameras. _She felt like she could truly be herself while with him_.

She knew it was dangerous. Like he said, he had spent his whole life preparing for the Games. _He was a trained killer._ She knew that he was willing to do anything to protect his sister. If it came down to it, how far he would go to do so?

 _Would he turn on her?_

The fact that anyone could be her killer – including Bellamy and her allies – chilled her. If it truly came down to her or Octavia, she didn't question who he would pick. He had been protecting Octavia his whole life. He was _there_ to save Octavia. _He barely knew her._

The question of how truthful he was being always hung in her head. How did she know that this was truly him? How did she know that Bellamy wasn't just acting and playing the Games? She didn't and that _terrified her_. While she could guarantee she was open and vulnerable with him, she couldn't do the same with him. He could very well just be playing his strategy. He could have been acting the whole time. Every word her said to her could've been a complete lie.

 _But she knew._

She could feel it inside of her. Even though she couldn't guarantee it, she was certain that he was truthful with who he was. He was a good person. He was truthful. He was strong and so giving. He wasn't a liar. He wasn't a killer. He was just a man, tying to save his sister. _He was just a teenager_. They were all just teenagers. And he was just like her, they weren't playing the Games when it came to each other. _She could feel it inside herself_.

She was suddenly very aware that they _weren't_ just Bellamy and Clarke. No matter how much she felt like they were normal teenagers, they weren't and they never could be. That simplicity was taken away from them.

They were tributes. They were going to be competing against each other in a few days. He could be the one to kill her, or her to him. Even though she believed that he wasn't lying about who he was, she could never be sure.

 _They could never be more than tributes, fighting for the single space of survival._

They were going to be in the arena in two days. They would have to fight to the death. Only one of them could live, if it came down to it.

Allies, friendships, connections; it didn't matter. _It was all temporary_. Their lives and their moments of normalcy were temporary.

Still, her stomach churned at the thought of trust – _too much trust_. Somewhere between meeting him and now, she had become vulnerable and allowed him access to her heart. The smile slipped off of her face and she took a step away from him. He froze, sensing her sudden mood change.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded her head slowly _. Was she?_ She didn't know. It felt like her stomach had completely flipped over. Her thoughts had thrown her for a loop.

She was trusting him, but she barley knew him. _He was a stranger_. Why did she have any reason to trust him? He was supposed to be an enemy.

She took a step back, her smile completely gone now. She felt sick.

She looked at her own hands, and she felt disgusted. She was covered in blood – blood that she had drawn without a second thought. _Who was she becoming?_ Who was the Games changing her into? If she looked in a mirror, would she even recognize herself? Would her father recognize the woman she was becoming? Even though this time it was just a practice mannequin, what about next time? _Next time, it would be a real person._

 _It could be Bellamy._

She felt like she was going to get sick at the thought of what was coming. _She was going to have to kill kids_. She was going to have to kill innocent children – children that had their whole lives left in front of them. When it came down to her survival, would she really be willing to hurt someone? Would she be willing to hurt other kids? And, if it came down to it, would she be willing to hurt her friends – her allies?

 _Would she be willing to hurt Bellamy?_

"Hey. It's okay." He reached out to her, but she stumbled away, shaking her head violently. He froze in his movements, holding out his palms to her – showing her that he wouldn't hurt her. _She knew that._ She knew he wouldn't hurt her. But with her heart thrumming and her head spinning, human touch terrified her. "Clarke. It's okay. It's just me."

She cared for him. She trusted him. She could even see that they could've become friends one day, if they weren't going to die soon.

And _that_ hurt. _That's_ what scared her.

 _He_ didn't scare her. She knew he wouldn't hurt her – somewhere inside of her, she knew he wouldn't. He proved too many times that he wouldn't hurt her; he helped train her, helped save her, helped support her.

She was scared over the fact that _she trusted him._

 _She cared for him._

 _And she was going to lose him._

As soon as they got into that arena, she was going to lose him. _She was going to lose all of them._

"I know," she said. _I know it's just you. I know you wouldn't hurt me._ She hoped he understood her thoughts because she couldn't verbalize them. "I've gotta go."

He pulled his hands to his sides, a strange look coming on his face. He nodded and forced a smile.

"Okay. I do too. Octavia will be wondering where I am," he said. Bellamy looked concerned by her sudden distance. "Are you sure you're okay?" Clarke grimaced at his question. She was right earlier; he could read her as easily as she could read him.

"I'm fine." _Lie._ She hoped that she was wrong. She hoped he couldn't tell she was lying. "Thanks again." She didn't just mean the watch that time. She meant what he did to Cage for her. She meant for being her friend, for making her laugh, for training her. _She was thankful for it all._ She was thankful for him, even if their friendship terrified her.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he questioned. Clarke forced a smile on her face. _There was that promise again._ A promise for tomorrow.

"Tomorrow," she agreed. She turned away from him without a goodbye and began walking to the elevators that lead her back to the floor District 6 was staying on.

She was confused.

She knew he wouldn't hurt her. There was something deep inside of her that told him to _trust him._ There was something that told her to be close with him. To lead with him. To survive with him.

 _But why?_

She didn't know him – not really. She hadn't known him for long. She shouldn't trust him. _She shouldn't trust him as much as she did._

But she did.

She was open and vulnerable with him. He was the only person she felt free with, which was ironic considering just how confined and imprisoned they were as tributes.

She knew that they were going to fight to the death in a few days. There was a possibility that they would kill each other, if it came down to it. Was she ready to face that? Was she ready to face what she might do, for the sake of survival?

She knew herself. She knew that she didn't want to hurt anyone. She knew that she wouldn't want to kill anyone. _Especially not her friends and her allies_. She could honestly say that she would rather die than have to hurt anyone she was beginning to love.

Raven.

Monty.

Charlotte.

Lincoln.

Octavia.

Bellamy.

 _Even Wells._

She felt sick just thinking about the potential of hurting them. She felt sick that she knew she would have to lose them. She felt sick that she would have to watch some of them die. She felt sick knowing that she would be unable to save them all.

She vowed to herself; she would more readily die before any of her allies were hurt. She refused to survive longer than they did. _She knew in her heart the Capitol would never let her win._ She would do anything in her power to guarantee her allies' survivals for as long as possible.

 _Only death could take that goal away from her._ She would have to die before she let her allies get hurt.

 _And if it came down to it,_ she would rather die than kill her allies. She would rather lay down her life than watch her friends die.

Her thoughts were flooded and jumbled and confusing. She felt like she was falling into a dark and bottomless pit, over and over. Her heart raced and her vision swam.

All she knew was she couldn't hurt the people she cared about. She knew that they wouldn't hurt her – _she had to trust that much_.

She knew that she was risking her life by caring for people. She was setting herself up for so much hurt and pain. She was allowing herself to trust and care for people that she was inevitably going to lose.

 _That's what scared her the most._

That she was trusting and caring and loving these people that she had just met. They had become people that she _actually_ cared about, and she knew she was going to lose them.

It wasn't a question.

It wasn't a possibility.

 _Only one of them could live._

Somewhere within the next two weeks, everyone she had come to care about would be dead. _All except one_.

It broke her heart and tore her into pieces.

Her head spun as she showered and got changed out of her training outfit. She felt sick as she watched the fake blood wash off her body and down the drain. She begged for the water to take away her sorrows too.

 _It didn't._

If anything, being alone in the shower amplified them.

 _She was falling._

 _Falling, falling, falling._

Later that night, she still felt sick and confused. Between her spiraling thoughts, she had calmed down slightly. She no longer felt like she was going to throw up and she didn't feel like she was falling with her thoughts.

She just had to accept things.

She trusted people that could hurt her.

She cared about them.

She was going to lose them.

She wouldn't be able to save all of them.

She was scared – so unbelievably so – because she was going to lose them. She was going to have to watch them suffer. And she was going to have to lead them through it. She didn't think leading was going to be easy, but she didn't think that she would feel so impossible.

Clarke knew that she would be leading a group of teenagers in an arena meant to kill them. She would have to help defend them against other teenagers out for their blood. She was going to have to help lead them through traps and mutts and over whatever obstacle the Capitol threw at them. She would have to help them grieve and fight for their lives.

It was a daunting task.

 _It seemed like too much._

She let out a small shiver and tucked her feet under her body on the couch. She clutched a cup of tea in her hands, forever grateful that her escort always seemed to have a pot brewing.

She had been curled up on the couch for the last few hours, content to stare out the windows that peered out over the Capitol. Wells had walked in a few times, but hadn't said anything to her, which she was thankful for. Her escort came in a few times and tried to strike up a conversation, but quickly brought her a cup of tea and left when she realized how closed off she seemed.

It was nice to be able to sit _and think._ She watched as birds swooped through the city outside. She watched the sunlight fade away slowly, sucking the warmth from the summer air. She knew it wasn't responsible to be wasting time she needed to prepare for the arena or for the interviews, but she needed the time alone to reflect.

"Good. You're here," Kane's voice interrupted her thoughts. Kane walked into the room with Wells only a few steps behind him. Wells always seemed to trail Kane like a lost puppy, but she knew it was to his advantage. Kane was always giving out small tips of advice to whoever listened. Clarke forced a smile onto her face and pushed her worries to the back of her head.

She knew that she couldn't do anything about them. All she could do was plan for the worst. All she could do was prepare the best she could, to lead with confidence, and to help support her friends. She couldn't change the situation she was in. She couldn't change the fact they were all marching to their deaths. She couldn't change the fact that they wouldn't all make it out of the arena. She couldn't change the fact that they would have to die painful deaths.

She _had_ to accept it, or at least try to. She had to stay true to who she was. And that was someone who trusted without question, cared too much, and protected who she loved.

Even though trusting someone felt like falling into a black hole, she had to do it. It was who she was. _The Capitol had already taken away too much of herself._ They weren't getting this piece of her.

 _Screw fear._

 _This was her story._

 _This was her life._

She was going to trust who she wanted. She was going to care for who she wanted. She was going to be who she wanted.

And she wanted to trust and care for them; for _all_ of them.

Raven, Monty, Charlotte, Lincoln, Octavia, and Bellamy.

 _Bellamy._

The Blakes were part of her constructed family too. If it came down to it, she couldn't fight them. She couldn't watch as they got killed.

And it hurt her to think like this, but she knew where her priorities sat. _With her alliance._ While Bellamy might have been her friend, she had to stand behind her alliance. When the time came in the arena, she would have to stick with her alliance, leaving part of her constructed family behind.

 _That was what had to happen._

She thought back to Bellamy. She felt terrible for leaving their conversation so suddenly, but she had felt like she was being suffocated by the blood she wore. She felt like she was being suffocated by the fact that she was trusting him and caring for him – against what everyone was telling her. She felt like she as drowning with the thought of losing him, of having to fight him, or having him betray her.

She felt awful for leaving him in the hallway. Even if she felt like she was falling into a hole by trusting him, she felt the same way with the others. She felt the exact same way when it came to Charlotte and Monty.

She was afraid of trusting others – of letting them in.

But she had to. She _wanted_ to.

She promised herself that the next time she seen Bellamy, she would make it up to him for walking away from him earlier. She would try to get him to understand that it wasn't him that she was running from – it was the world around her that she was trying to escape.

Kane sat down beside her, patting her back as he did so, breaking her thoughts. She smiled at the friendly contact from Kane. It reminded her of her father, in a strange way. He was her mentor and her advisor, someone she could trust and depend upon. His warm eyes, comforting touches, and wisdom reminded her of Jake.

"I hear that you did well in the assessment," Kane praised her as he sat. Clarke raised her eyebrow, shocked by his words.

"You did?"

"Yeah, us mentors all hear rumors while you're being assessed." He turned to Wells, a look of pride on his face. "You too, by the way. Nice job in there." Wells nodded his head in thanks. "I guess we'll see just _how_ well things went in a few moments."

Clarke forced out another smile. The ghosts of her worries and thoughts still lingered in her head, but a new worry erupted in her chest.

 _The assessment scores._ Their assessment scores would be released on television for everyone to see. Not only would sponsors from across Panem be able to see these scores, but so would all of the other tributes.

These scores could result in your survival or destruction.

If they got a high number out of twelve, they would get more sponsors, but more attention would be drawn to them from other tributes. _It would paint a target on their backs._ On the other hand, if they got too low of a score, the sponsors would pass them over completely. It was an impossible system and nobody was really a winner.

Clarke hoped she scored high enough to gather interest from sponsors, but not too high to get _more_ attention from the Careers or other tributes.

Wells dropped onto the couch to her side. She refused to glance in his direction, deciding to focus on the opening segment for the Games on the television. Kane turned and began talking to their escort, leaving her and Wells alone.

The silence was awkward.

"What did you do for your assessment?" Wells asked, finally breaking the tension. Clarke pressed her lips together and turned to him, trying to seem distant but not hostile.

"What Kane suggested," she said tightly.

"Same here. He's a smart guy," he praised. He looked happy and relieved that Clarke had decided to talk to him. "I just hope it impressed the Gamemakers." Clarke shrugged and turned back to the television.

"I guess we'll see." There was another long pause.

Wells cleared his throat. "He _is_ smart, which is why I wonder why you're not listening to his advice?" His tone was accusing. She knew _exactly_ what he was referring to. He was talking about her interactions with Bellamy and Octavia. Clarke narrowed her eyes and spun to face him.

"Someone may be smart, but that doesn't mean they know everything," she snapped. Wells shrugged and looked apprehensive.

"I don't know… It seems like common sense to be avoiding the Careers." Clarke scoffed. Why was he so adamant about this? Why couldn't he just leave her? Why did he have to question her decisions like it was his personal job?

"You also thought common sense was-" She stopped what she was going to say, reminding herself that they weren't the only ones in the room. _You also thought common sense was betraying me to your father, so I guess we are both lacking in that area_ , was what she _wanted_ to say. She let out a puff of air.

"I don't trust them, Clarke," Wells said, seemingly ignorant to what she wanted to say. "Neither should you." He leaned back into the couch, a skeptical look on his face. "The Careers are dangerous in every regard. They're too dangerous and unpredictable to have as allies."

"Careers as allies?" _The new voice made Clarke's blood run cold._ Kane joined in on the conversation, having just caught the tail end of it. This was exactly what she was afraid of. She didn't need a lecture from Kane about how dangerous the Careers were and how reckless she was being. "Did I hear that right?"

"You did," Wells said, puffing out his cheeks. Clarke shot daggers at him with her eyes, warning him to keep quiet. He didn't say anything more. _Finally, he seemed to understand her._

"Who has Careers as allies?" he pressed further, sounding concerned. Wells refused to say anything, choosing to look pointed at Clarke. She glared harder at him. _Of course,_ Wells had to betray her trust again and tell Kane. _Why was she surprised?_ "Clarke?"

"Huh?" she asked, turning to face him. Her face softened when she seen how genuinely concerned he looked, a stark contrast to the bitter one of Wells.

"Who has Careers as allies?" Kane asked again, his voice gentle. She bit the inside of her cheek. _Here we go._

"Nobody," she answered stiffly. It was true. Bellamy and Octavia _weren't_ technically her allies… _Technically._ Wells let out a dry laugh.

"Then why are you so close with District 2?" he countered. Clarke spun around to glare at him again.

"Wells…" she warned, her voice low. He shrugged helplessly.

"Oh?" She could hear the surprise and the judgment in Kane's voice. It made he want to cringe. "You're friends with District 2?" Clarke let out the breath of air she was holding. There was no reason in dancing around this anymore; he would only keep asking questions until he got the truth.

"I've talked to them, yes," she stated simply. She turned back to face Kane. She could see the disappointment on his face and it hurt her. "They're nice people. I like talking to them." She tried to stay vague enough to appease him.

"They're _Careers,_ " Kane insisted, his voice harder than before. "They're dangerous."

"See! That's what I've been telling her," Wells said, exasperated. Clarke glowered.

"Well, I guess you're both wrong then," she snapped, the need to defend the Blakes filling her. "Bellamy and Octavia have been very kind." Kane let out a breath of air, a dry chuckle accompanying it.

"You're on first name basis with Careers?" he questioned, shaking his head. Clarke turned her glare to him.

"What about it?" She knew she was walking a fine line with him. She needed him to be on her side when they were in the arena. He would be her only contact to sponsors when she was fighting for her life. Clarke sucked in a breath, pushing back some of her anger. "I'm sorry, but I just don't see how this is a big problem?"

"Those Blake siblings are trouble. I can see it already." Kane was frowning openly now.

"And what makes you say that? I know them, Kane. I've talked to them more than either of you two have. They're good people."

"They're Careers," he said simply. Clarke frowned at his generalizations. "Careers _never_ tell the truth. They lie, manipulate, use, and kill. _That's all they do_. They've trained for this moment. They're trained to deceive you." Kane sat forward on the couch, his emotions getting the better of him. "Don't trust them." Clarke leaned forward to match him.

" _I do trust him_. I trust the Blakes," she said confidently. She had never said those words out loud before, only ever thinking them before that moment. They felt heavy rolling off her tongue and being put into the world, but they felt _right._ "I trust them more so than most other tributes."

"I don't know what you're thinking, Clarke." Her heart twanged painfully at his reprimand. "I've-"

Kane's words were cut off with as Panem's national anthem started playing from the television, signaling the start of the program. The announcers appeared on the screen and began welcoming everyone to the Games and the program.

Kane glanced back at Clarke, disappointment in his eyes. Clarke lifted her chin in defiance. _She wouldn't be backing down from this._ The tension in the room was so thick that she could almost feel it on her skin.

"We'll discuss this later," Kane finally conceded. Clarke shook her head, not satisfied with his answer.

"I don't think there's anything to discuss. I trust them and nothing you have to say will make me change my mind." Kane fell silent at this. There was a long moment where the only sounds were the television playing in the background. "I'm not going to apologize for trusting who I trust, Kane. I respect your wisdom and I acknowledge your judgment, but this is my choice to make." She shrugged. "If it's the wrong one, I'll have to suffer the consequences. But I trust them."

Kane was silent for a long moment. The only sounds filling the room came from the television. Finally, after the longest minute, he nodded and leaned back into the couch, the disappointed look disappearing from his face.

"Fine. You're right. It _is_ your choice." Clarke let his words sink in before sending him a nod of her head. "You understand the risks. If you're confident with this choice, then there isn't anything to discuss." The tension diffused from Clarke's body.

"Thank you." Maybe Kane wasn't so bad after all. As she settled into the couch, she couldn't help but smile to herself.

With the end of their tense conversation, Wells reached forward and turned up the volume of the television. The broadcasters' voices boomed out.

"Tributes are rated on a scale from one to twelve after their evaluation. This score is based off of the tribute's ability to survive, as well as any exceptional skills that they possess. The Gamemakers have let us know what an outstanding year this has been! The tributes once again bring their best foot forward and are full of surprises!"

"They say that every year," their escort said, her nose in the air. Kane rolled his eyes and leaned further back into the couch.

"Now, without further ado…" Clarke tried to calm her racing heart. _They were minutes away from finding out their scores._ After days of grueling work, they would find out if their labors bore any fruits.

"Let's start with District 1. Roan." The announcer paused for dramatic effect. "A score of 10." Clarke shifted at hearing his name. While he wasn't cruel like the other Careers, he made her feel unsafe and uneasy. He was part of their pack, after all. _That meant danger._

"District 1 – Ontari." Just hearing her name sent a shiver up her spine. "She has received a score of 11." Clarke felt her heart drop to her stomach as her picture appeared on her screen. Out of all of the tributes, she disliked her the most. She was terrifying in every way. Her high score only confirmed what Clarke already knew; she was dangerous and lethal.

"Wow. I've never seen a score so high," Kane commented. That made Clarke feel worse.

Her mood instantly improved when Bellamy's picture appeared on the screen. His lips were set in a straight line and his eyes slightly narrowed, giving him the impression of a dark and hardened fighter. She tried to keep her face neutral; she knew Wells would be watching her for a reaction. "District 2; Bellamy." _Another pause._ "A score of 10."

Clarke tried to keep her face composed when she heard his score. _That was good._ He did well. Really well, actually. She didn't know why she was surprised by that – he was an exceptional fighter and a wonderful trainer. She didn't think it would've been possible for him to get anything lower. While he wasn't as high as Ontari, there was nothing to be disappointed in with a score of 10.

"District 2 – Octavia." The younger Blake appeared on the screen and Clarke had to do a double take. Clarke knew the younger girl as bubble and fun. The picture that appeared on the screen looked _nothing_ like that. She looked much older than she did in person, and she looked like a warrior. _She looked like the Career she trained to be._ "She has a score of 11."

Kane swore and Wells' jaw dropped open. Clarke blinked at the screen, clearly surprised at her high score. She was tied with Ontari.

Kane turned to Clarke, a horrified expression on his face. "And _these_ are the people you're associating with?" he questioned. He let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. "Damn." She couldn't tell if he was impressed or terrified. "Well, at least you know they're trained."

She seen that they were trained to kill – not only by the score, but with her own eyes too. But she had also seen who they were; kind, compassionate, and brave. She was terrified by them like she knew she should've been.

She felt a sense of pride fill herself at hearing their scores. _They were doing well._

"District 3, Monty." Clarke tensed up and leaned forward. This was the first one of her allies to be scored. _She hoped he did well._ He deserved it. "He comes in with a score of 7." Clarke smiled at that, a wave of relief flooding her. She knew he was nervous for the assessments. She was proud at him for doing well. "District 3, Raven, also comes in with a score of 7." Clarke let out a wistful breath at that, her good mood lifting.

"Your allies did good," the escort complimented. Clarke smiled and nodded her head. _They did_. She was proud of them. _So proud._ They were going to do this. They were going to survive.

"From District 4, Cage," Clarke's heart stopped at his name. She felt sick looking at his picture, much like she did with Ontari. "He has a score of 9." She almost smiled at that. _He got lower than any of the other Careers._ It was just like him; all talk, but no action. "District 4. Luna." Her picture appeared on the screen. Clarke was surprised by how caring and kind she looked in the photo. "She has a score of 10."

"The Careers are good this year," Kane pointed out, his tone nervous. He tried to hide it, but she could hear right through it. "One 9s, three 10s, and two 11s. I don't think I've ever seen scores these high before." He looked pointedly at Clarke. "Be careful of them." His eyes flicked to Wells. "Be careful of _all_ of them."

"District 5, John." A picture of Murphy appeared on the screen. Clarke had to suppress a laugh at it. It looked like a mug-shot, not a tribute profile picture. "He comes in with a score of 7." Clarke smirked at that. She knew Murphy would most likely be more concerned about the use of his first name rather than his actual score. "District 5, Echo. A score of 9." Kane whistled.

"They weren't lying. These scores are high. Really high." Wells sat forward in his seat, a mix between worry an excitement on his face. He glanced back at Clarke and she could sense his panic.

"We're next."

Clarke's air caught in her throat. She wondered if anyone about be listening to their scores. They were right in the middle of all of the districts – people tended to lose their attention at this point. Would sponsors even care?

She honestly didn't care that much in that moment. Her heads began to sweat and her heart beat nervously.

 _This was it._

"Now, on to Wells from District 6." A picture of her former best friend appeared on the screen. She doubted anyone in the room breathed as they waited for his score to be announced. "A score of 7."

Kane let out a cheer and slapped him on the back. Wells' face broke into a smile and he relaxed his shoulders. Clarke let out a soft chuckle, some of her tension leaving her body. She never even realized how nervous she was for him.

"Great job!" Kane praised. "I knew you would do well." Clarke half wondered what he showed the judges that made them score him well. She pushed that thought to the back of her head. _Now was not the time to worry about Wells_. She rubbed her hands against her pants nervously.

 _She was next._

Her picture appeared on the screen. Her breath caught in her throat and she could've sworn she felt her heart freeze.

"Clarke from District 6."

Once again, the room fell completely silent. Wells glanced towards her, watching her face for her reaction. Kane was leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glued to the television. Her hands shook.

 _The anticipation was killing her._

"She comes in with a score of 9."

She stared at the television blankly, her body completely numb and her mind blank.

She scored a 9.

Kane was already standing up, having leapt off the couch in excitement, a wide smile across his face. His cheers of excitement echoed around the room. The escort was hanging onto his arm, jumping up and down excitedly, cheering with him. Wells was standing up as well, his hand collapsed against Kane's shoulder.

She sat, completely frozen to the couch, unable to move.

 _She scored a 9._

Clarke felt as if she could cry, she was so relieved. She was also extremely surprised. How could she score as high as Cage did? He was a Career that had been training his whole life! How could she be in the ranks of the other Careers? _What the hell._

At that moment, she didn't care.

All she could feel was elation. Adrenaline and excitement coursed through her veins.

She jumped up from her seat, a cheer coming from her mouth, finally joining in on the celebrations. Kane pulled her into a bone crushing hug, which she happily returned. Her escort grasped her hand and jumped up and down with it collapsed in hers.

"Great job, Clarke," Kane praised, his chest rumbling against her ear. He released his hold on her and patted her on her back once more. She couldn't erase the smile from her face. She felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off of her shoulders by hearing that score.

She turned to Wells. For a brief moment, they stared at each other, completely oblivious to those surrounding them. Both had smiles spread across their faces, their chests heaving with their heavy breaths.

Without a second thought, Clarke surged forward, pulling him into a tight hug. Wells didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against him. _This was familiar. This was part of her home._ She pressed her face into his shoulder and locked her fingers around his back, still shaking from the adrenaline.

"Congratulations, Clarke," he whispered against her head. She smiled bigger, her throat tightening with emotion.

"Congratulations, Wells." She pulled away, an odd feeling settling over her. Wells smile gently at her, reminding her so much of the young boy on the playground. Her smile faltered the slightest bit, remembering how complicated their history was, but she tried to push her unease aside.

 _This was a time for celebrations._

Even though she was beyond upset with him, he _had_ been her best friend once upon a time. She _had_ trusted him with everything, and celebrated every event with him. It was only natural to celebrate this with him. His arms were her home once upon a time and returning to that feeling was one of instinct.

She pulled away completely, turning back to the television, her heart still hammering in her chest. Her face was plastered with a smile and her heart was full. Finally, she felt like she wasn't failing her alliance.

She could secure sponsors with that score. _She would be able to provide to her alliance_. When they needed sponsors to give them supplies, they had that opportunity now. _Gods, it felt so good._ And, if those scores were accurate, they gave the impression that she had potential for the arena.

It told her that she had a chance at survival. _Her friends had a chance for survival._

Clarke was drawn out of celebrations when Lincoln's face appeared on her television. She surged forward, desperate to catch his score. The three other team members for District 6 continued celebrating as Clarke crouched next to the television.

"District 8, Lincoln, with a score of 10." Clarke let out another happy cry, her hands coming out to her mouth. It didn't feel like anything could bring her down. Her allies were doing well. _Her friends were doing well._ Charlotte's photo appeared on the screen next and Clarke waited for her score with baited breath. "District 8, Charlotte, with a score of 5."

She felt her heart break at that, but she still felt pride for the young girl. Charlotte was so small and so innocent, and 5 was not the end of the world. She would be okay, especially if she stuck with the group. Clarke didn't expect her to get anything higher – she was too young and too unprepared. _She was just a child._ She shouldn't be here.

Clarke joined in the celebrations with her district, trading hugs again with Kane and their escort. Her eyes were glued on the television, waiting to hear the scores of the other tributes. Even though there were reasons to celebrate, she was still a tribute. She couldn't allow herself the luxury of ignoring the other tributes.

In the end, the male from District 9 – Ilian – also scored high with a 9, and the male from District 10 – Dax – scored an 8. The rest of the tributes all scored below a 7, which was apparently to be expected. Kane explained that the further tributes got from the core districts, the lower their scores usually got.

As the District 6 team celebrated both her and Wells' success, she couldn't peel the smile from her face. She had surprised herself, and so had her allies. She was so proud of them. _All of them._ Monty, Raven, Charlotte, Lincoln. She even felt pride in her chest for Wells.

Most of all, she couldn't stop thinking about the Blakes. They had done so well and exceeded her expectations. She was so proud of them. _She was so proud of him._

She spent the rest of the night celebrating, a wide smile on her face.

* * *

 **Finally… some Bellarke feels. I loved writing Bellamy and Clarke talking about their feelings! They don't get many moments alone, and when they do, I go full out. There is a lot of Bellarke in the next few chapters leading up to the arena, so you have that to look forward to.**

 **I loved writing Bellarke's relationship so far. I loved building them up from misunderstanding each other to them being open and vulnerable with each other. Them being soft with each other always is so much fun to write haha. I hope you enjoy this too!**

 **I just wanted to quickly say that this was not meant to be romantic Wells/Clarke in this chapter. While quickly re-reading, I got a little worried that their hug might come off as romantic, so I just wanted to reassure everyone that is** ** _not_** **where I am taking this story. Clarke and Wells will always be platonic and I won't be introducing him for a love triangle. I hope their interaction at the end of this chapter shows to complexity between these two characters. While Clarke still resents him, she can't deny how much she cares for him still.**

 **I'm so proud to say that with this chapter, this fic has officially become my longest fics for any fandom! I've been writing fic for over eight years, so this is pretty cool for me. Thank you for all of the support and encouragement you give.**

 **Bellarke Fanwork Awards:** As I mentioned in my previous A/N, I have been nominated for these really cool awards hosted on Tumblr (they're account is bfwa. If you have trouble finding them, you can find the link to their blog on mine - I am pawprinterfanfic). You don't need a Tumblr account to vote; you just need your ffnet username! I am currently nominated in the following categories:

-Best Angst WIP for _Simple Pleasures_

-Best Modern Drabble for _Something Beautiful_

-Best Fluff Drabble for _I Promise_

-Best Canon Author

-Best Fluff Author

I am nominated against wonderful authors that I look up to with beautiful fics, so this is truly an honour. Please go vote for your favourite fics! If you're enjoying this fic, it would mean the world if you voted for it! I honestly don't expect to get to the finals, but it would be really fun! Anyways, **please vote** because these awards show appreciation to fic writers and also bring so much love to us. It's really fantastic.

Also, another great thing about these awards is all of the wonderful fics that are brought to my attention! If you're looking for some great fanfic, go check out the nominations! There's _at least_ 100 different fanfictions nominated. **Voting for the semifinals closes on December 2, 2018 at 11:50pm EST!**

 **Thanks for reading! (Sorry for the long author's note.)**

 **Paw**


	14. Chapter 14: Demons

**I've decided to make this a quadruple update, so there is one more chapter after this! I'm kinda sorry for posting so much all at once (I know it can be overwhelming), but I hope you enjoy all of the extra content!**

 **Warning: there's a lot of angst in this chapter (including talking about death), also there is mention of blood and gore.**

 **This chapter was particularly difficult to write, but I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Demons**

* * *

As soon as Clarke got back to her bedroom, she let out a shuddering breath and pressed her back against the door.

With one hand clutched over her chest and the other curled into a fist, she steadied her heart beat and focused on her breathing.

 _In. Out. In. Out._

Her hand shook as she ran her hand through her hair several times and her mind was buzzing with thoughts.

 _She was covered in blood today._

She knew it was fake. She knew she didn't actually kill someone. It was just a mannequin for assessment.

 _That didn't make it any better._

In less than 48 hours, she would be shoved into a glass tube that would shoot her into an arena. She would be standing around the cornucopia, twenty-three other tributes standing around her.

 _Twenty-three other children._

 _Raven._

 _Monty._

 _Charlotte._

 _Lincoln._

 _Wells._

 _Octavia._

 _Bellamy._

They would all be there. Her friends. Her allies.

 _Standing. Waiting for the buzzer. Waiting for the bloodbath._

 _Murphy._

 _Echo._

 _Dax._

 _Ilian._

 _Luna._

 _Roan._

 _Cage._

 _Ontari._

They would be there too.

She knew how that first day went; it was called a bloodbath for a reason. Many tributes will die as they fight for supplies. So many others would die in the sake of survival.

 _Would she have to kill someone in less than 48 hours? Would that be_ her _standing by the cornucopia, blood on her hands?_

Even worse, would her full alliance be intact by the end of that first day in the arena? Or would she be leading them to slaughter? Would she be leading her new found friends towards their deaths?

Clarke sucked in a breath and blinked open her eyes, determined not to think about their impending doom.

 _It would be okay. It would be fine._

They could do it. She refused to fail. _She wouldn't fail._ She would keep her alliance safe, if it was the last thing she did.

She glanced down at her hands, a wave of relief flooding through her when she noticed the lack of blood. She swallowed thickly and glanced up towards the ceiling of her room.

 _She could do this._

If not for herself, for her friends. If she couldn't save herself, she would save them. It wasn't just her anymore; it wasn't just her life she had to think about. She was their _leader_ and that meant she had to think about _them._

It wasn't just her she would be fighting for once she stepped foot in that arena.

 _It would be for all of them._ Raven, Monty, Charlotte, and Lincoln. _That_ was her family. _They_ were who she would fight for. _They_ were the reason she would risk everything – her humanity, her life.

 _They were worth it._

With newfound strength, Clarke pushed away from the door, her demons pushed down for the time being.

 _Demons._

They seemed to be coming up more and more often, clawing their way up from the darkness, crawling from the corners of her mind. With every minute, she was _that_ much closer to the arena. She was that much closer to death.

She blew out a breath of air and pulled out Bellamy's sweater from under her mattress. She was relived that it was still there. She had been so worried that someone would've found it while she was out for the day. She let her fingers brushed against the collar absentmindedly, her mind already drifting to a different world.

The arena was so soon. All they had to do was interviews tomorrow and then, the next day, they would be in the arena.

She knew that she would never make it out. Her throat tightened at that though and she scoffed. _It wasn't new._ Ever since her name was pulled from that bowl, she knew she was sentenced to death.

The Capitol would finally get what it wanted; her silence. They would eliminate her as a threat by removing her voice, just like they did with her father.

 _She felt like she was too young to die._ She was only seventeen, and had been in the real world for only sixteen years. She was _so_ close to becoming a fully trained medic, but that was taken away.

There were so many things she wanted to do. She wanted to dance at a wedding, like people did when her neighbour got married. She wanted to catch the eye of someone she loved from across the room. She wanted to have inside jokes with them, where they could laugh at each other and with each other.

She wanted to hold the hand of the person she loved, their fingers tangling in hers. She wanted to feel human touches _over and over_ for years to come. After going so long without them, they were what she craved recently, and she doubted she would grow tired of them.

She wanted to learn someone so well that she could describe the shade of brown in their eyes without a second thought. She wanted to memorize the constellations of freckles on their face. She wanted to _know_ someone in ways she never thought possible. _Their favourite colour, their favourite ice cream flavour, their habits when they got nervous, their fears, their dreams, their quirks._

She wanted to stand beside someone, supporting them until her very last breath. _She wanted that._

She wasn't done living yet.

 _But she would die for what was right._ It wasn't right to stand by silently as her country lied to her people. It wasn't right to allow people to suffer when she knew there was a better way. It wasn't right to respect and worship the Capitol when she knew all of the unspeakable horrors they did.

 _She wouldn't._ She wouldn't stand by as her people were killed, manipulated, and lied to.

 _Her father wouldn't either._

She would die, just like him. She was expendable, just like him. _She was dangerous, just like him._

Clarke glanced down at the soft material in her hands, pushing the thoughts of death and her father and District 13 out of her mind. Her eyes fell on _his_ sweater and a new worry blossomed in her mind.

What would happen to him?

Bellamy Blake had somehow managed to worm himself through her high walls. _She cared about him. She trusted him._

It terrified her in some ways, and, in others, it brought her reassurance. He reminded her she wasn't just a sacrifice. He reminded her there _was_ good out in the world, all across Panem. He reminded her what it was like to be human.

 _What it was like to feel. What it was like to laugh. What it was like to be free. What it was like to trust. What it was like to be vulnerable._

Just as she would be going into the arena in less than 48 hours, _so would he._ He would be in that exact same arena as her, with the exact same opportunities and the exact same challenges. They were both forced into impossible situations. _They both knew they weren't getting out of the arena alive._

Somehow, his selflessness and impending death weighed heavily on her.

 _They would both die before the end of the month._

She wondered if tomorrow would be the last time she would see him. They both agreed not to be allies in the arena. For her, it was so she could keep her alliance members happy and feeling safe. For him, it was so he could better protect Octavia.

Would she see him in the arena?

She could almost imagine them running into each other, in the middle of a jungle. Her heart would drop to her stomach as she caught sight of him, running alongside of Octavia. His eyes would catch hers, shock hitting him. His sword would be clutched in his hand, his knuckles tight around the hilt. She would feel sick, staring at him, both of them fending for their lives.

They would be on opposite sides of the fight in the arena. She would be fighting for her alliance and he would be fighting for Octavia.

Would they stop for each other? Would they fall back into old patterns, striking up a conversation for a few odd seconds? Or would they run away from each other?

She knew those were the only options. Even though he wasn't her official ally, she refused to cause him harm. If they bumped into each other in the arena, she wouldn't fight him. _She cared about him too much to do that._

Clarke dropped the sweater onto the windowsill, a lump in her throat. _Gods, what situation did she get herself into?_

Sighing, she walked across the room, heading for the set of clothing already laid out on her bed. She slipped on the thick set of clothing, half convinced that her Avox knew _exactly_ what she was doing every evening.

 _The roof._ She wanted to go to the roof. She wanted to feel the peace and serenity that came with being under the stars. _She needed to feel free,_ not like she was trapped in a fate she didn't choose.

Even though she was targeted by Ontari and Cage only last night, she felt like she shouldn't run away from what she loved. She didn't want to let them make her fear something she loved; she wouldn't let them take away one of her last choices. In a few short days, her life would focus on survival. _She wanted to indulge in these last simple pleasures, before it was too late._

The roof was the one place that made her feel at home. The roof was the one place that made her feel safe and at peace with herself.

 _The other thing not being a place, but rather a person._

 _Bellamy._

He always seemed to bring out the best in her. When she was with him, living life was as easy as breathing. She felt like she didn't have to worry about strategy or playing allies. She didn't have to worry about acting and being a leader. She didn't have to worry about impressing sponsors or the Gamemakers. _She felt like she could be herself_.

She pulled on her shirt left by her Avox and frowned. The short-sleeved shirt wasn't warm enough to withstand the harsh climate that came with nightfall and there wasn't a sweater left for her that night.

She looked over to the windowsill, where she had set down Bellamy's sweater. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered when their hands touched as he passed it to her on the roof, and how soft his expression got when he was trying to reassure her, or how his voice seemed to sooth her soul. She walked over to it and held it in her hands, debating on if she should pull it on. She was tempted to.

 _Why not?_

Why was this up for debate? She was cold. He let her borrow it for when she got cold. It was a no brainer.

She pulled the sweater around her shoulders and tightened it her body. It was quite large on her – it hung to her mid-thigh and the sleeves hung past her wrists. She smirked at it. She never really realized how much taller her was than her.

It smelt like him too. Well, she _assumed_ it was his scent – she hadn't really spent enough time around him to pick up on it. It smelled like polish, old books, freshly washed clothes, and a summer breeze. It was a strong smell, but she found it almost enjoyable. It reminded her of her home, in the strangest ways. _It brought her comfort._

She climbed out of the window, her fingers curled tightly around the vines attached to the side of the building. As a gust of wind hit her, she was extremely thankful to be wearing his sweater. It was cold and windy – she wouldn't have lasted a minute without it.

As she was climbing down, she made sure to scan the pad for any Careers. Seeing none, she dropped down and smiled. Her head tilted back, her eyes turning to the night sky.

 _The stars were out._

She took in a deep breath of air and shut her eyes, revelling in the feeling of the cool night air on her skin. The tension in her shoulders released as the feeling of being _safe_ and being _free_ soaked into her bones. She smiled when another gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes.

 _It felt good._ The feeling that came with being under the night sky never got old.

"We almost don't want to interrupt you." Clarke let out a startled yelp and jumped in fright as the voice interrupted her moment of relaxation.

She spun around to see Octavia and Bellamy standing across the roof, clearly having just arrived as well. Octavia looked like her normal self, bubbly and filled with energy, while Bellamy looked slightly awkward. Just like the previous night, his hands were buried deep in his pockets and his forehead was creased with worry. Clarke let a smile cross her face, another feeling of peace and freedom sweeping over her.

 _The Blakes made her feel free just as much as the night sky did._ She didn't have to wonder why, it was already pretty clear; it was _her_ choice to seek them out. Her whole life, those choices weren't hers. Someone was always there, pulling her strings, constructing her life. _The Capitol was always there, controlling them with fear._

But not this.

 _Not them._

Against all odds, she trusted them. She chose them. They gave her a little piece of freedom, in a way.

"I didn't even hear you come up," she said, her eyes never leaving Bellamy's. He was concerned; she could tell by the way his eyes kept surveying her for injuries and the way his forehead was creased. _When she had gained the ability to read a man that was once a stranger, she would never know_.

She wasn't surprised by his concern. The last time she seen him, she was stumbling out of a servants' tunnel. As her thoughts spiralled into darkness, her mind being filled with death and murder and loss, she pulled back from him. When he reached for her, she jolted away from him.

 _"_ _Clarke. It's okay. It's just me."_

A lump formed in her throat when she remembered his words. He thought she was pulling away from him. He thought she was scared of him; that she was scared of his touch.

 _No. That wasn't it._

He couldn't be further from the truth.

She wasn't scared of him. She was scared _for_ him. She was terrified to lose him. She was sick over the thought that she was just starting to trust him, and befriend him, and think of him as anything more than just another tribute.

She cared for him and she didn't want to lose him. _Too bad that was out of her control._

"You didn't hear us come," he said with a nod of his head. "That's why I recommended you don't come here anymore. At least not alone."

"Which is why we decided to come and check if you were here," Octavia continued.

Clarke didn't know Octavia as well as she knew Bellamy, and she couldn't put her finger on her expression. The younger Blake walked towards Clarke, Bellamy trailing behind her.

Even though Octavia was the one speaking, she couldn't take her eyes off of Bellamy. He looked unsure and nervous by just being around her. She wondered if it was because she took off so quickly earlier.

"And Bellamy was right. You decided to come here alone."

"Congratulations on your scores," Clarke said, changing the subject. She knew they were just trying to help, but she wasn't in the mood for a lecture. She already had to deal with Wells and Kane earlier, she wasn't exactly in the debating mood. "You both did really well."

"You too," Bellamy said, his voice filled with pride. "A nine is really impressive, Clarke, especially considering you started training only a few days ago." Octavia stopped a few feet away from her, but Bellamy walked closer. They locked eyes. "You always cease to amaze me." Clarke felt her smile widen the slightest bit if that was possible, and butterflies erupted in her stomach.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Octavia's smug face. She stood off to the side, her arms crossed and her gaze calculating. "Nice sweater," Octavia commented, her eyebrow raised. Clarke's cheeks lit up in a blush and she took a quick step back from Bellamy. She opened her mouth to try and explain herself, but the other girl held up her hand. "Ah. I don't need to know."

"I didn't have another one," she continued anyways, her cheeks red. _Oh gods this was awkward_. "It was supposed to be cold out. I just… I don't know. I put it on." She glanced at Bellamy, desperate to look anywhere but at Octavia. His eyes were glued to the fabric around her shoulders.

 _He didn't want her wearing it._ That was the only way to explain his blank face. Clarke made the motion to take it off, but Bellamy shook his head, as if snapping out of whatever trance he was in.

"No. It's fine. Keep it." She paused in her movements, carefully evaluating his expression. His cheeks were slightly red too, but he looked genuine in his statement. Octavia stood off to the side, a sly smile on her face. "It looks good on you." Clarke tried to ignore the flutters in her chest that his words gave her. " _Warm_ , I mean. Like it looks like it's keeping you warm good."

Bellamy stuffed his hands in his pockets and pressed his lips tightly together. Clarke smiled at him, the joy she felt breaking her composure. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Every time she was around him, she seemed to go weak at he knees now.

Silence filled the roof for a long moment. Clarke's eyes swept over Bellamy, taking in the sight of him. She wasn't ignorant; she knew why he made her heart race and her knees go weak.

Whatever _this_ was between them, she would just have to ignore it. There wasn't any room in her life for feelings or friendships or romance. Her whole life had been about survival, and it wasn't about to change now.

 _Survive. Survive. Survive._

"I'm going to sit," Octavia announced, breaking the silence that followed Bellamy's comment. She looked at Bellamy with a pointed expression. "I don't plan to go back to my room any time soon. It's so stuffy in there." Before she got a response, she turned sharply and left Clarke and Bellamy standing alone.

As Octavia crossed the roof, Clarke began to feel awkwardness rise in her. It was just her and Bellamy now; there was nowhere to hide.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Clarke said suddenly. He looked surprised by her words. "I left suddenly. When we were talking." Bellamy's smile fell again, being replaced by a look of concern.

"Yeah." his voice was soft. "Are you okay? You aren't hurt?" Clarke shook her head, a strange feeling in her chest. How did they come to this? When did they become friends among all of the mess of being tributes and living different lives?

When did he start caring about her wellbeing, just like he cared about hers? When did he become the person she knew she could turn to?

She didn't know. She didn't really care. All that mattered was that she knew he was there for her, constantly beside her, as they both struggled to stay afloat amongst a storm.

"I'm fine," she assured him again. "I just… I was overwhelmed." She tried to keep her response as honest as possible, without completely admitting that she was beginning to care for him and trust him.

The last few days, he had been right there. He had been beside her. He understood her better than her district partner did, and understood the struggles that she was going through.

 _Well… almost._ He could never truly understand her yearn for freedom, or her love of the roof, or her weariness over touches. He didn't truly know who she was – and he would never do so, not unless she told him about her father and about her time in isolation.

She relented and assumed there would always be parts of her that would never be known, not even by the man she had begun to trust.

"I get it." Her words seemed to set him at ease. A look of peace and relief washed over him, washing away all remnants of worry. "I'm overwhelmed too, and I've been preparing for this my whole life." He began walking towards where Octavia had decided to sit, with Clarke following beside him. "I couldn't imagine how you're feeling."

 _Terrified. Sick. Worried. Lost._ She could make a list of how she felt like she was losing herself to these Games, and they hadn't even gone in the arena.

"If I'm being honest, not too great," she replied. Their steps fell out of synch and her shoulder brushed against his. Her mouth felt dry at the contact. He looked down at her, a small smile on his face.

 _He looks good when he smiles_ , she thought.

"I did mean good," he said suddenly. She nearly tripped on her feet from being so surprised. What was he talking about? Did she miss something?

"What?" she asked. Bellamy cleared his throat and looked away, suddenly fascinated by the night sky.

"You look good," he clarified. Clarke looked towards the ground, her face bursting into a wide smile. She could feel heat rising on her cheeks and her blood rushing through her veins.

"Thank you." Her voice sounded breathless, even to her. She cleared her throat.

They had reached Octavia at that point, which Clarke was both thankful and not thankful for. She doubted she would ever get tired of spending time with Bellamy, light banter passing between them. Then again, he made her feel like she could combust with all the unknown feelings rushing through her. _Gods,_ it had been so long since anyone had made her heart race like he did.

Octavia was leaned against the wall, her eyes closed and a wide smile on her face. Even though her face was tilted to the stars and she looked like she wasn't paying attention, Clarke had a feeling the youngest Blake had a sharp ear. Clarke wondered how much of their conversation she had heard. Bellamy sat down beside Octavia, his leg brushing against hers. Her eye cracked open.

"Took you long enough," she commented. Clarke dropped to the ground beside him, a shiver going up her spine when her body was hit with the cold concreate. As if they had done this a hundred times before, Octavia leaned into Bellamy's side and dug her head into the crook of his arm. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Clarke smiled at the siblings.

She always wondered what it would've been like to have a sibling growing up. It would've come in handy more than once to know there was someone always in her corner, willing to support her through whatever. Would they be as close as the Blakes were?

"Gods, it's so nice out here," Bellamy commented. He closed his eyes and tilted his face towards the sky, much like Clarke had done earlier.

She couldn't help but examine him as he did so. He wore a dark black sweater and dark blue jeans – a stark contrast to the pyjamas she had seen him in the previous night. His hair hung in his eyes, but she could still clearly see them. He had a soft smile on his face and his cheeks were still flushed red. He looked like he had a child-like innocence as he sat under the stars; like all of his worries and demons had melted away. She smiled softly at his expression, her heart thudding strongly against her chest.

"Is that why you come out here?" Octavia asked, breaking Clarke away from her marvelling. Both girls looked at each other, Clarke clearly shocked that she had been caught staring at Bellamy, and Octavia sly. "Do you come out here because it's so nice?"

"I come here because it's nice to escape it all," she said, quickly adverting her eyes to the sky. The sight of the stars washed the tension in her shoulders away. "There aren't any cameras, or any Gamemakers, or any weapons out here. I don't have to worry about how I look for the sponsors, or how my team is doing. It's just me and the sky."

"And now us," she pointed out with a laugh. Clarke snorted.

"And now you two."

She couldn't help but smile at the siblings. They were always fascinating to her. While it wasn't rare to have more than one child, it was uncommon – especially in the outer districts. There wasn't enough food or money to feed the whole family, which really limited the number of children a couple had.

Just watching the Blakes interact captivated her. She guessed that was why she was so interested and drawn to them when she first seen them at the reaping.

She thought back to what she remembered being told by Kane that day, as they watched the reaping tapes. _So much had been different then, even if it was less than a week ago._ He told her and Wells that the Career tributes were pre-selected to volunteer by previous victors and the trainers at the academy. The only way you ended up at the Games was if you were the top of the class.

She had thought about it before, but only ever in passing. As she considered that fact a little longer, she understood the implications more. _The Blakes must have been the top of their classes at their training academies._ They were selected to be here. They were selected as the volunteers that year.

"I guess it's a pretty big honour to be here," Clarke said, her mind trying to wrap around the knowledge Kane gave her. They lived in such different worlds. The Games were seen as a punishment and death sentence in the outer districts, but it was seen as an honor in the Career districts. Non-Careers did everything possible to not be reaped, but it was the complete opposite for them. "You both volunteered. Your mother must be very proud."

She could only imagine how big of a deal it was to have your children selected for the Games in the Career districts. Clarke remembered that Octavia mentioned something about their mother, back when she was teaching the Blakes how to identify plants. Octavia said that for her whole life, it was just her, Bellamy and their mother. Bellamy had practically raised her, since their mother had been busy working.

Octavia shifted awkwardly, her eyes locking on Bellamy's. Clarke grew nervous at the sudden change in their moods. He nodded slightly and she turned to Clarke, a grim expression on her face.

"No." Clarke was surprised by the blunt answer, coupled with Octavia's frown. "I don't want to be here. I never wanted to compete in the Hunger Games."

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say. She was stunned by her words. Wasn't she competing for honor? Wasn't she competing because she was chosen to – out of everyone in her district? Octavia shrugged, as if her situation didn't matter too much.

"In the Career districts, the top of each class are selected to go compete at the Games," Octavia explained. Clarke nodded – she already knew that from Kane. "If you're what they determine to be the best, you _have_ to volunteer. _No matter what_." Clarke was getting a sneaking suspicion that she knew where this was going. "I didn't want to compete, but they said I was the top of the school. I was forced to volunteer at the reaping."

"Wow." Clarke couldn't find the right words. She just assumed that Octavia had been the one to decide for herself to want to come. She just assumed that _all_ of the Career tributes would want to be here. She never even considered the possibility of them being forced to be here, even if they volunteered for the Games.

"If you go against the academy's wishes, you can get punished," Bellamy added, a dark expression on his face. Clarke couldn't begin to fathom how different their districts were, and here was another thing she didn't completely understand. "If you don't volunteer, or if you volunteer when you weren't pre-selected… Well, you have to go by exactly what the academy wants, or you'll be punished."

"And yet, here you are," Octavia muttered darkly. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. Clarke raised her eyebrow at her comment and turned to Bellamy.

"What is the supposed to mean?" He adverted his eyes, choosing to look up into the stars. She didn't remove her gaze from his face. His jaw muscles twitched and his forehead creased. Something was bothering him.

"I wasn't the selected tribute," he admitted, his voice strained. Clarke felt her mouth part the slightest bit in surprise. "Someone named Pax was selected by the academy to volunteer this year." He pulled Octavia closer. She could see the turmoil of emotions inside of him; protectiveness over his sister, determination over his choices, panic over his past. "But once I found out that she was selected that year, I knew I couldn't let her go alone. So I volunteered."

She was at a loss for words, so she didn't say anything. He risked _everything_ for her; his reputation, his future, his safety, his life.

"You're going to be punished for what you did, you know that, right?" Octavia muttered, her voice thick with emotion. "I still can't believe you did that, you idiot."

"I did it for you, but I chose this fate for myself," he responded. He sounded like they had this conversation multiple times before, and Clarke didn't doubt the truth in that. Somehow, she doubted the strong-willed Octavia would let him risk everything for her without a fight. "I knew the risks. I knew what I was doing."

"That's incredibly brave of you, Bellamy," Clarke said, finally finding _some_ words to express her awe and her bafflement. "To risk everything for Octavia." He looked away from the sky, back to her. His half-smile didn't really meet his eyes. Clarke could sense the pain in him.

"She's my sister. She's my responsibility."

Octavia pushed him lightly, which sent him laughing, breaking him away from whatever spell he was under in that moment. He quickly shifted back to the man she knew he tried so hard to be, and pulled away from that sombre version that he desperately tried to hide. _She liked both versions of Bellamy._

"That's sorta his thing," Octavia told her. "Protect me or die trying." Clarke didn't question how true her statement was. After all, he did volunteer to die to protect her. He told her that he planned to die in these Games, all so Octavia could go home. "I don't blame him though. He's always kept me safe." Octavia turned her head slightly so she could look at Clarke. "He practically raised me."

"O," Bellamy groaned, his hand coming up to block his eyes. She could sense the embarrassment in him. Of course, she knew about this from when Octavia told her in training. Still, Octavia's statement surprised her. What did she mean by her words?

"You raised her?" she echoed. Bellamy looked back to her. She could see pain in his eyes, like the demons inside were bursting to get out. She understood that feeling; the demons of her past were always trying to come out, too. She hoped she didn't push him too far.

"Yeah. I did, in a way," he said finally, letting out a chest full of air. Octavia scoffed, clearly not happy by his dismissal.

"What he really means is _yes._ He raised me basically all by himself." Bellamy glanced to the sky, more than happy to pretend to disappear as Octavia praised him. "I never knew my father. Our mother was never home. It was him – _always him_. Making dinner for me, packing lunches, taking me shopping, taking care of me if I got sick." She let out a short laugh, as if she remembered something funny. "Gods, he even played with me when we grew up. What was the name of that game you used to hate?" Bellamy smiled softly.

"Lily pads." Octavia laughed again. It was interesting to see the stark contrast between the two siblings. While Bellamy thought of his past with pain, Octavia looked at it with fondness. It spoke volumes to Clarke about their childhood. From the first moment they met, Clarke understood that Bellamy was the one to protect her. It seemed that he had always protected her; even from the horrors of their past.

"Right." She turned back to Clarke. "Point is, Bellamy was the one who raised me. _Of course_ he would follow me into the arena like an idiot." Bellamy rolled his eyes again.

"I wouldn't let you go off here all alone," he said. Clarke watched in fascination as they interacted. It seemed that they agreed with her – the roof was truly freeing. They were acting more free than she had seen either of them act before.

She didn't know how it was possible, but she was even more impressed by Bellamy. He had raised his sister, who couldn't be more than a few years younger than him. His mother had a child, but it was his job to help make her into the woman she was today.

It suddenly made sense as to why he would risk his life for her. He didn't volunteer to come and win. He didn't _want_ to win. All he wanted was for her to become Victor. He volunteered to keep her safe. He did what he was always taught to do – protect his sister.

"You always cease to surprise me," she said fondly. Bellamy looked back at her, a touched smile on his face. "You raised her into a great person." Octavia let out a small yawn, but still batted Clarke's arm lightly.

"I'm right here," Octavia muttered.

"Yeah, well, someone had to," Bellamy said, ignoring Octavia's protests. "Our mom wasn't ever around too much. She was always working to provide for us."

Clarke chewed her lip, suddenly remembering words Ontari had told her the previous night. _"They're just as filthy as you, but they're one of us."_ Ontari equated the Blakes to her, a tribute from the outer districts. She was confused by her words.

"And it has always been just you three?" she asked, her mind still mulling over what Ontari said. Bellamy nodded.

"Just the three of us," he confirmed. "Mom, me and Octavia. Plus, she wanted to put both of us through the top academy in the district, which wasn't a cheap idea. She had to work constantly to pay tuition, and to provide for us on the daily basis."

Was that what Ontari was referring to? Clarke wasn't afraid to admit she didn't know anything about the classes in the Career districts. Sure, she understood that Careers were _always_ viewed as better than the outer districts. She also knew that it wasn't that easy though; there were different classes within each district.

She understood this system to an extent back home. She was part of the upper class, as her parents were well known contributors to their fields, earned quite a bit of money, and were involved with politics. She knew she was fortunate and privileged growing up. She knew that people suffered in her district; nobody could hide that fact from her.

Was it similar in District 2? Were there privileged and less fortunate families, just like in District 6? From the way Bellamy spoke and based on Ontari's comments, she got the impression that there _were_ classes, and the Blakes weren't considered to be privileged.

Another thought occurred to Clarke. _Was that why he called her Princess the first time they met?_ It wasn't a secret that the Griffins were a well-off family in Panem – did he know that before they even met?

Bellamy grimaced, drawing Clarke from her thoughts. "We weren't… uh… We weren't one of the _well_ off families because every penny she earned went towards our education." _There it was._ His words confirmed her suspicions and things suddenly made more sense.

 _Their mother worked her whole life to provide for them._ She sent them to the best academy, she kept them safe, she provided them with food. Bellamy did the rest, from what she had been told. Bellamy was Octavia's home.

"Wow. She sounds like a strong woman," Clarke said. "I see where you both get it from." Bellamy smiled softly at her again.

Clarke couldn't imagine Bellamy's life. The more time she spent with him, the clearer it became just how _different_ their lives were. They were born under different circumstances, with almost everything. While he trained since he was 11, she hadn't touched a weapon until that week. He raised his sister and his mother worked endless hours to provide for them, where she was born into privilege. They were taught to view the Games as a great honor, while she was raised to fear them.

They came from such different backgrounds, yet she felt a connection to him. They were still so similar.

They both were willing to sacrifice _everything_ for the good of the people they loved. He was willing to make the tough choices to protect his sister, just as she was willing to make impossible choices to protect Panem. They both were forced to compete in the Games; one for his sister and the other for her crimes.

They both had families they loved. They both had dreams. They had futures that were ripped out of their hands.

They were just teenagers.

 _They were human._

Clarke instinctively reached out for Bellamy, letting the back of her hand brush against his. She felt comfort as their knuckles grazed each other's. While they were different, they were so similar.

 _The same could be said for all of the tributes._ They were all so similar. _They were all just kids._

"Tell me about your family," he said, interrupting the silence they had fallen in to. "What are they like?"

Clarke felt a wave of uncertainty hit her with that question, but she also felt touched that he would even _want_ to know about her life before the Games. They hadn't really spoken about their lives before the Games. It was always just a mystery between the two of them, which she had accepted. He had secrets, just as she did.

 _Maybe it was time to change that._ He opened up about his past to her, and she found herself _wanting_ to do the same to him.

She wanted this connection to him. She wanted to be vulnerable with him.

Clarke smiled softly as she thought of her past, and her hand found its way to the watch around her wrist. She looked up into the sky, letting the serenity of the stars wash over her.

"It was just my parents and me. No brothers or sisters, which got kinda lonely." As soon as Clarke started talking, she knew that it would be near impossible to stop. She wanted to share everything with Bellamy, even the darkness. She wanted to bare her soul to him, demons and all, and hope he would be as accepting of her then as he was now.

Bellamy let out a short laugh. "Octavia's a pain in my ass most of the time. You're not missing much," he joked. He pulled his sleepy sister closer. "I'm kidding. She's only a pain in my ass some of the time."

"Shut up." Octavia swatted him. With her eyes closed, she missed his whole body, which cause Bellamy to laugh. Clarke smiled at their antics. After a second, he turned back to her.

"So, it was just you and your parents?" he prompted. She nodded.

"It was lonely," she repeated. "Both of my parents worked most of the time. My dad was an engineer. He worked on the trains back at home, trying to make them more efficient. My mom is a medic. She's helped develop pharmaceuticals and procedures used all around Panem, plus she still is clinically active."

"Wow," Bellamy said, his cheeks puffed out. "Smart family."

"Yeah, they're smart." She felt a touch a pride for her parents. She knew they worked hard. "I grew up around the medical office for the most part. As soon as she was able to, my mother was back to work after my birth. She brought me with her most of the time. Which is inspired me to start training to become a medic. And, well, it is working in my favour now, since I actually know the basics of medicine."

"And plants," Bellamy pointed out. They both smiled as they remembered one of their early interactions. "You're good at plant identification because of her." She was touched he remembered that she told him that. It felt like a lifetime ago.

She played with the watch on her wrist, debating what she should tell Bellamy about her father. She didn't want to lie to him, but she also couldn't tell him the truth. If she started talking about him, she knew that his death would come up and she would have to lie to him. She _couldn't_ do that to him. Not when they were being so vulnerable with each other. It would feel like she was betraying him, in someway.

"And you've already mentioned your dad to me." Her heart stopped with his comment. He reached out with his hand closest to her, brushing his fingertips around her shoulder. While his arm didn't wrap around her body, just the simple touch of his palm against her shoulder brought her more comfort than she would've guessed it would. "You don't have to talk about it. I know it's hard."

"I miss him." Her voice broke and tears welled in her eyes. It was still so hard to talk about. _Everything that came with his death was too hard to think about._ "He died a year ago, but the pain is still as fresh as it was then sometimes." Bellamy wound his arm around her body. She leaned into the touch, taking in a deep shaking breath.

She could still feel the pain in her heart when she thought of him. It was like his death left a hole in her soul where his love used to be. He was taken too soon – he was taken too unfairly.

She could still remember the hope he had for a brighter future. It was one of the things she missed most about him – how he was always able to look for that silver lining. He thought the best of people.

She could still remember the fear in his eyes as he was dragged from their home. She could still remember how he _begged_ for his daughter to live.

It was impossible to keep the tears at bay.

"I get it," Bellamy said. His voice was raspy too; it was thick with so much emotion. Just hearing it made Clarke feel like she wasn't alone. Sharing the pain with someone made it easier. "We lost our mom two years ago." There was a heavy pause.

Clarke's heart broke for him. _That was another thing they shared._ Dead parents. The feeling of loss. Someone they loved being ripped away.

She reached up and grasped the hand that hung off her shoulder, her fingers intertwining with his. It felt so _normal_ to hold his hand and to lean into his side, both seeking comfort from each other. These touches were once so foreign to her, but now felt like they were the only way she could cope.

They both looked at each other, tears in their eyes. He sent her a soft smile which she returned, her vision swimming with tears. She hoped that her touch brought him as much comfort as his did with her.

"I'm sorry," Clarke said. "I had no idea."

"We don't share it often," Bellamy mentioned. "But I get it. Sometimes it feels like the pain will just tear you apart. Other times, you feel at peace with it all." Clarke was beyond words.

"That's exactly it." A few more tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her free hand. Bellamy squeeze the hand he held, providing silent comfort.

"It gets better though," he said, his voice warm. "I remember, when it first happened, it was all I could think about. It consumed me. I would lay awake at night, haunted by our last moments together. I couldn't get her out of her mind. I would replay back every conversation we had together. I kept beating myself over the wrong things I said, and the things I didn't say. I had so many regrets, and they would just consume me."

"I did that too," Clarke said.

She remembered clearly those first few weeks after she was put in lock up. All she did was mourn her dad. All she did was regret things she didn't do, or regret mistakes she had made. Why didn't she laugh at his lame jokes more? Why didn't she tell him how proud she was of him? Why didn't she _fight_ harder for him? Why did she let those Peacekeepers take him from the house?

It consumed her, just like Bellamy said. Regrets, lost moments, lost time. It ate at her.

"It's been two years for me. It gets easier with time." He didn't sound particularly convinced, but she believed him. Time helped dull the pain. "I'm not saying the pain ever goes away – _it doesn't_ – but it is easier with every day that passes. I think about her _every day_ , but I'm not filled with those regrets anymore. I know she would have wanted me to live my life to the fullest, without holding onto those regrets and that pain. She wouldn't want me to mourn her forever." He sucked in a painful breath. "I still feel the pain, don't get me wrong. It's agonizing to think about. But… it gets easier. Every day is a little easier."

"I don't think I'll ever get to that point." Clarke's voice broke again. Bellamy's thumb rubbed a soothing circle on the back of her hand. She relished his touch, savouring the feeling of comfort it brought her.

"I didn't think so either. But I did." Clarke leaned into his side, needing to feel contact with him. "Losing a parent is the worst feeling in the world. Growing up without one feels damn near impossible, some days."

"And you raised Octavia completely by yourself over the last two years," Clarke realized, a terrible feeling washing over her. Her veins ran cold and she felt like she could pass out. She grasped his hand tighter in hers. "Oh, gods, Bellamy…" He looked towards his sister, a mix of pain and love evident.

"She's a good kid," he said. "I would give up _everything_ for her in an instant. I would do the same thing a million times over, if it meant keeping her with me, keeping her safe, and keeping her in the academy."

Another terrible feeling overwhelmed her. If his mother worked multiple jobs to afford their tuitions to the top training academy, how did _he_ do it?

"Bellamy… How were you able to pay for _both_ of your tuitions and go to school at the same time?" she asked. He looked at her, his eyes completely empty. Her suspicions were confirmed with that simple look. "You dropped out of school."

"Before my mom died, she paid for the full year for both of us. For the first year after she passed away, things were good in that sense. We both kept going to school. But we had to find a way to pay for our second year." He swallowed thickly. She could hear how dry his mouth got by thinking of his past struggles. "Octavia was willing to drop out too, but I wouldn't let her. I already almost finished the academy, and she had so many years to go still. It made sense for it to be me."

"You left school to pay for her tuition," she concluded. He nodded his head and his lips were pressed in a tight line.

 _He gave up everything for Octavia._ He gave up his own education just to support hers. He gave up everything so she could live her best life, and so he could keep her safe.

Bellamy volunteering for the Hunger Games wasn't something out of the ordinary for him, if it meant keeping his sister safe. He seemed to have a long track record of doing everything in his power to give Octavia the best life possible.

"That's why Octavia worked so hard this past year; she knew I gave up my education to put her through school. She was so dedicated to training, but that backfired in the end. She climbed to the top of the school and was selected for the Games." He frowned. "I wish it was different. I wish she wouldn't have _tried_ so hard, even though I am so freaking proud of her."

As she started to piece things together, something else hit Clarke.

"And that's why you weren't selected for the Games. You weren't even at the academy." Bellamy nodded his head. Clarke was shocked by his past. There were so many things that she didn't know about him, but, now that she did, so many things fell into place.

"If I were to win, my district would never accept me as a true Victor," Bellamy stated. It made sense to her; he went against their rules and Octavia already said he would suffer punishment for it. The politics behind the Games in the Career districts astounded her. "It's not like I plan to actually win, but…"

"You plan to protect Octavia." Clarke stated, remembering their conversation from several days ago.

"That's the plan. I volunteered so I could be with her – so I could protect her. I want to be with her, to help her get as far into the arena as possible. I know what that means for me." He sent her a determined look. "I'm prepared to lose everything for her. I'm prepared to lose everything for the people I care most about."

"You're very selfless," Clarke pointed out. "I'm sure most brothers wouldn't do that for their sisters."

"Octavia and I are close," he responded. "I would rather die than see her get hurt." He looked over to his sister and let out a small snort. "She's asleep. Gods, I knew it. She's never this quiet." Clarke let out a soft laugh at that.

Clarke couldn't even begin to put into words how impressed she was by Bellamy. He was so selfless and giving for his sister. She always thought that he was selfless, ever since the day of the reaping. She knew that he was willing to die for her. She knew he came here to protect her. But hearing that he had raised her since she was born, dropped out of school to pay her tuition, volunteered against the academy's wishes, and was willing to die for her blew her away. Bellamy Blake was something else.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both staring up at the stars. Bellamy still hadn't removed his hand from her shoulder, but she wasn't going to mention anything to him. His touch brought comfort to her – something she didn't think she would get from a simple touch.

She couldn't remember the last time another human touched her with kind intentions. She couldn't remember the last time someone tried to bring her comfort like this. She had been in lock up for a year, completely without physical contact for that whole time. She had been shoved around by Peacekeepers, but she wouldn't classify that as human contact. Even after she was reaped and allowed to say goodbye to her family, her mother hadn't held her to bring her comfort – it was to say goodbye. Even when she hugged Wells earlier in the day, it was out of celebration, not comfort.

She was so beyond thankful for his hand on her shoulder. Who would've known that the jerk from the elevator would be the only person in the Capitol to bring her such peace and comfort?

* * *

 **Sorry. Here's another long A/N!**

 **So… finally! Some of the pieces are starting to fall together. Even though all Career tributes "volunteer" for the Games, that isn't necessarily a choice by the tribute (in the case of Octavia). Bellamy is in trouble back home because he went against the academy's wishes.** ** _And finally we touch on their past!_** **I hope that this connects some of the dots!**

 **This chapter (along with the next one) was one of THOSE chapters. When I first started the fic, there were a bunch of scenes that I instantly knew I needed to write. Bellamy and Clarke sitting on the roof, talking about their pasts, being vulnerable with each other, and baring their wounds to each other was one of them. The scene where Clarke and Bellamy are comforting each other over the loss of their parents was one that spoke to me when this whole fic was just a draft.**

 **On a different note, I recently found a fic that is currently being posted called "We Burn Brighter" by thegoldenkru on AO3. It's a fic where Clarke and Bellamy are in The Hunger Games, and I'm so excited to check it out. If you're really interested in this AU setting, give it a read!**

 **Bellarke Fanwork Awards (BFWA):** Quick summary of what I said in the last two chapters. These fan-run awards are on Tumblr (bfwa) and I'm in the semifinals! I am in 5 categories (Best Angst WIP for Simple Pleasures, Best Modern Drabble for Something Beautiful, Best Fluff Drabble for I Promise, Best Canon Author, Best Fluff Author). You don't need a Tumblr account to vote! Semi-final voting closes on **December 2 at 11:59pm EST**. If you've enjoyed this fic so far, go give it a vote! I would be so appreciative if I manage to get to the next ( _the final)_ round of voting! These awards are a wonderful way to show love and appreciation to fanfic writers, as well as spread positivity. Thank you in advanced for voting!

 **A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed, and simply read this fic. I read every review and I'm constantly blown away by the support given.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Paw**


	15. Chapter 15: Take Back My Life

**The final update for this multi-chapter update! Once again, I'm so sorry about the wait. Thank you all for being patient and understanding. If there is ever a long wait between chapters again, I encourage you to check my AO3 (Pawprinter) because I may have more recent updates there.**

 **Warning (spoilers): there is a lot of angst in this chapter (similar levels to the last chapter). Characters discuss death, regrets, and have feelings of panic and not being in control.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Take Back My Life**

* * *

Clarke didn't know how long they had sat on the roof for. All she knew was that his touch brought her a sense of peace she only dreamed of. Staring at the stars made their problems feels less significant; it reminded her that they were only small pieces of the world.

She couldn't help but think of her life as she sat with him – where she came from, what choices led to her current situation, where she would be if she had chosen slightly different options.

She was never one to play those _what if_ games, but she couldn't force her mind off of it.

 _Who was she?_

She came from a well-off family in the upper sector of the district. She worked alongside her mother, healing her people under her eye. She studied under medics, learning how to save as many people as possible. She sat with Wells, allowing her time with him to wash away her worries. She stood beside her father as he was taken from their home. She vowed to continue his project; she vowed to let the people know the truth.

She was a daughter. She was a friend. She was a healer. She fought for what was right.

 _Who was she now?_

She was a tribute. A sacrifice. A leader. A friend.

 _Who was she going to become?_

A fighter. A murderer. A pawn for the Capitol.

 _More importantly; who did she want to be?_

She wanted to be a leader; she wanted to be someone her allies could rely on and look up to. She wanted to be strong, to provide support to her friends as they fought for their lives. She wanted to be true to herself; she didn't want to lose sight of who she was and where she came from. She wanted to be a healer; she wanted to be someone to save lives and bring hope to people, not take it away like the Capitol wanted. She wanted to fight for what was right because _screw_ the Capitol and their corrupt ways.

She didn't want to be a monster. She didn't want to be a killer. She didn't want to lose herself. She didn't want to just be a _piece_ in the Capitol's Games, even though that was exactly what she was.

She was powerless against that. She couldn't change the fact she was a tribute. She couldn't change the fact that she was being used as a sacrifice; she was being used as someone to remind the districts to stay in line.

 _Unjust. Unfair. Cruel. Manipulative. Liars._

That was all the Capitol was. They didn't care about their citizens. They only cared about their power and their way of life.

With all of that control taken away from her, she revelled in the same pieces that brought her freedom.

The roof made her feel free, like she wasn't just part of their games.

The stars reminded her that she wasn't alone.

Clarke got to pick her allies. She got to pick who she stood beside as she died. She got to pick who she would be fighting for. She got to pick how much she trusted them and how close they got.

Bellamy. She got to pick him. Against all of the stereotypes and the sway from the Capitol, she _chose_ to be with him. She chose to talk to him, to train with him, to be vulnerable with him. Nobody told her to do it; in fact, everyone warned her against it. It was one piece of her life that she was in control of, even the slightest bit.

Clarke leaned her head back, resting it against the concrete wall. Bellamy's arm tightened slightly around her shoulders, as if he was reminding her that he was still there and that he was still awake.

It surprised Clarke to realize that those few moments spent on the roof made her trust Bellamy more. She found herself opening up to him more than she did with anyone else in her life. She spoke to him about things that she never even considered telling anyone else; her childhood, her father, her regrets and her grief.

She had never been given a chance to talk to anyone about her dad, or the grief that followed his death. _The regrets, the sorrow, the soul crushing pain._ The feeling of his life slipping through her fingers, the feeling of _failure_ for not doing anything about it.

The strange thing was, he was the only one she had _ever_ talked to about her dad. As soon as he was assassinated, she was thrown in isolation. She wasn't allowed visitors, and the Peacekeepers that watched her cell weren't exactly comforting. She was never comforted by anyone after losing her father. Nobody had ever opened up to her about their own similar pain.

It was healing and freeing, all at the same time. Even though she knew she wouldn't live long enough to fully heal over her father's death, and she knew that she would carry regret over not being able to follow through with this wishes for the rest of her life, it was _good_ to talk about it.

 _How was it possible that she trusted him enough to talk to him?_ She hadn't known him for long. She only had fleeting moments with him away from the cameras and away from officials; why did she think she could trust him? Why did she feel that she knew him so well?

Clarke wasn't too sure. Maybe it was because he seemed to get her. He understood what it was like to sacrifice everything. He understood what it was like to lose a parent. He persevered through his own troubles and he had his own struggles, just like she did.

Did it matter? Not really.

Regardless of why she thought she could, she cared for him.

 _Deeply._

She felt her heart fall to her stomach with that line of thought. Oh, gods. _She cared for him_.

Clarke felt that same dread from earlier creeping up on her again. It was the same feeling from when they were standing together in the servant's tunnel. _Too much trust, too much care, too many feelings, all so fast._ She felt like she was falling into the pit of darkness, unable to help herself or stop the feeling of spiralling.

 _She trusted him. She cared for him. She felt connected to him._

 _And she was going to lose him._

No matter what she did, only one of them had the possibility of coming out alive. And, even then, who likely would that be? She knew that the only reason she was inside that arena was to die, and he had come specifically to save his sister. Neither of them would be the Victor if things turned out the way the planned.

She wasn't _just_ going to lose him when he died either. She had to say goodbye to him tomorrow. She would lose him the moment they stepped into the arena.

There was no possibility that she would ever be able to talk to him again once they were put in the arena. They would just be tributes, fighting to stay alive, willing to do _anything_ to make their alliance be the last.

She would never be able to share another laugh with him or open up to him again. She would never be able to admire his courage or his selflessness or his sacrifices. She wouldn't be able to hear him speak about his rough childhood. She wouldn't be able to heal with him, or be comforted by him, or feel supported by him.

Their connection – whatever that may be – would end as soon as they stepped foot in that arena. No matter how much she cared about him, she was going to lose him.

She felt sick again. Her heart was racing, her hands felt sweaty, and her mouth was dry. It felt like her stomach twisting itself in knots.

 _She was going to lose him._ Everything she had worked for, the Capitol had taken away. _This wasn't any different._ They were going to take him away too – they were going to take _them_ away.

Clarke thought about what would happen once they were in the arena. The best situation she could think of was that they would be allies. She could stand beside him, fight beside him, _survive_ beside him. He was the one person she trusted the most to watch her back and to keep her safe – and she knew she would do the same for him.

 _Gods,_ she wanted that so bad.

When she was with him, it was like she had a taste of freedom and a taste of a _normal_ life. She forgot about everything else, even if for just a few moments. If they were together in the arena, she could have that. She could have that small taste of freedom, right up until she died.

Being with him in the arena sounded like a dream to the other possibilities.

 _She knew it wouldn't happen though._ He said so himself; he was only there for Octavia. _And she was okay with that._ Weeks ago, they were just tow strangers – she couldn't possibly expect him to give up everything just so they could stay together in the arena.

He had his priorities, and she had hers. _Keep her alliance alive for as long as possible._ Plus, she knew she was going to be targeted by the Careers and the Capitol. As soon as she was in there, her life could be taken at any second and it would be _okay._ The Capitol could orchestrate her death and nobody would be the wiser.

Would she really want to put him in that risk? Did she really want to risk him being beside her when she was inevitably killed for what she knew?

It terrified her to think of _anyone_ standing beside her in the arena, knowing she was putting them in danger. Her allies would be in that much extra dangers, just because they would be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 _No._ Stop. She couldn't think like that. If she let her thoughts spiral, she would talk herself out of being in the arena with anyone.

She refocused herself. _Bellamy. Arena._

She knew it was only a fantasy to imagine them together in the arena. She knew that they would be separated from each other.

She almost preferred the idea of them being separated for the whole length of the Games, rather than them running into each other. What would happen if they seen each other in the arena?

It terrified her. The possibilities terrified her.

Would they be killed by different people? Would they be forced to kill each other?

Regardless of how they died, they would both lose each other. She only had a one day left with him – _tomorrow_ – then they were placed in the arena to fight to the death.

She was trusted and cared for him too much for her own good. She was setting herself up for pain and destruction _. She was setting herself up for heartbreak._ Losing someone she cared about would cause her more pain than she wanted to deal with.

She knew what it was like to lose someone she cared about. She lost her dad, and it tore her apart. Even though she only knew Bellamy for a week, she didn't question how much his death would hurt her. Somewhere in the mess of the Games and in the panic of the Capitol, she had really connected with him. Whether that be though lame jokes, soft glances, light touches, or their conversations, she felt close to him. Whether it be because of their training together, or their protection for each other, or their vulnerability with each other, she _felt_ it.

She felt him.

She knew him.

Even though it had only been a week, she felt like she had known him for her whole life.

 _It scared her._

She pulled away from Bellamy's grasp like she had been burned, panic filling her as her thoughts spun. She ripped out of his grasp, scrambling several feet away from Bellamy. He jumped as she moved and his arm dropped to his side. She could see confusion in his eyes.

She felt like her life was spinning out of control faster than it had ever before. She felt like she wasn't in control of herself or of her emotions or her life. _She was just a game piece, and everything she had ever loved would be taken away._ Everything she _thought_ she had control over – her alliance, her friendship with Bellamy – it would all be taken away within the coming weeks.

 _She was going to lose everything._

"I've got to go," she said suddenly, unable to meet his eyes. She could feel his gaze lingering on her face and she could sense his confusion. She didn't want to look at him; she knew seeing him would only hurt her more.

"Clarke," he spoke gently, like he understood just how much turmoil she was in. "It's okay."

 _It wasn't okay._

"I need to get inside," she muttered, her voice lost. "I need to… I need to go."

She made the motion to stand up, but she stopped when Bellamy's fingertips brushed against her arm. It was nothing close to being forceful, it was more like a gentle touch, but it broke her from her feelings of drowning. The breath caught in her throat and her eyes locked onto where his hand touched her body.

"Clarke," he said simply again, his voice soft. "You're okay." She swallowed thickly. It felt like she couldn't look away from his eyes. "You're okay," he repeated again. She felt herself nod at that. _She was okay._ She blinked rapidly and sucked in several deep breaths, her head turning to the sky.

 _In. Out. In. Out._

The panic she felt seemed to subside with deep breaths. Bellamy sat beside her, patiently waiting for her to calm down. Just knowing he was there, silently supporting her, brought a sense of peace to her.

While things weren't _okay,_ she was okay in that moment. She just felt so overwhelmed, like her own thoughts were trying to suffocate her.

Her thoughts were swimming in her head, making it impossible to make sense of. She cared for him. She cared for all of them. _It was dangerous._ She was going to lose them.

 _They were all going to die. She couldn't do anything about it. They were all going to die._

Her hand shot out, reaching for Bellamy's for reassurance. _He was still here._ They still had time. He met her desperate grasp hallway, bringing their fingers together effortlessly. Just feeling his touch reminded her that they still had time.

"Are you okay?" His voice broke the silence they fell in to. It was gentle, like all of the other times he spoke to her when she was feeling this way, and she appreciated it.

Clarke's eyes snapped up to his, tears filling them once again. She tried to blink them away rapidly and adverted them to the sky. _She had to stay strong._

"I'm okay," she said again. Her voice broke and she couldn't help but let out a wet laugh. _Way to give it away._

"You don't sound okay," he pointed out. He squeezed her hand. "What's going on?"

 _She broke._

The walls she built and the dam she made broke.

She had been telling herself that _it was okay_ for the past year, but it wasn't. _Nothing_ about it had been okay.

The government was lying to everyone. They were manipulative and monsters. Her dad had been assassinated for trying to do the right thing – for trying to save his neighbours. She had been imprisoned for wanting what was best for her country. She was forced to compete in the Hunger Games to pay for her crimes. She had begun to question everything around her; herself, her trust, the people around her.

 _She didn't want to do it anymore._

She didn't want to be afraid to trust. She didn't want to be scared to care about someone.

She wanted to be normal. She wanted to love and care freely, without being afraid it would only cause her more pain. She wanted to be open without worrying if she'd be punished for doing so.

 _She wanted to take back her life._

So she did.

"I trust you," she wetly said, as an explanation to her falling apart. Tears fell from her eyes and she wiped them away with the ends of the sweater she wore. "I trust you and I hate that I feel like I shouldn't. I hate that I feel like I'm risking myself, and I hate that I feel _guilty_ for considering you a friend." He was silent at this. "And _that's_ why I keep leaving – because I know I shouldn't trust you. I know I shouldn't feel like I can be myself around you. Everyone else tells me to stay away. Everyone else tells me to not trust you. But _here I am_ – trusting you!"

She took a shuddering breath and turned to face him again. Where she expected to find hatred, she found peace and understanding. Once again, Bellamy Blake continued to surprise her. She locked eyes with his.

"I trust you and _I'm afraid._ " He still didn't respond, so she kept talking. The words flowed out of her without much thought. "I'm afraid that I'm allowing myself to trust you. I'm afraid that I know I'll lose you. I'm terrified of losing anyone in these Games, but I know I have to. I'm afraid of being betrayed, or having to betray someone. I'm afraid to allow myself to trust anyone – to trust you." She locked eyes with him again. "I trust you, Bellamy. I care about you. And I know that it's just going to tear me apart."

They were silent for a brief second. Clarke half expected Bellamy to leave without saying anything else. She just opened her heart to him, and he had the power to reach in and crush it. While it wasn't a confession of love, she was still giving him her all.

 _Her trust. Her vulnerability. Her compassion. Her heart._

Why would he want to stick around for this? Why would he want to be just as open as she was with him? They would be fighting for survival in only a few days – why would he make himself vulnerable to her by opening his heart as much as she did with hers?

"Clarke." The way he said her name made her hands ball up at her sides. He said it with so much tenderness and so much care that she felt like she _broke_ with it. "Clarke, I trust you, too," his voice broke at that, his voice thick with emotion. She sucked in a shaky breath with his confession. Her chest felt warm and heavy, but inexplicably light at the same time.

That was the first time they both expressed _some_ feeling towards each other. It was the first time they both verbally stated how much they trusted each other.

She could sense understanding and peace coming from him. She could feel his desperation; it was the same one that grew inside her. _Desperate for comfort. Desperate for reassurance._ It soothed the raging storm inside of her.

He lowered his eyes to their intertwined hands. "It terrifies me too, Clarke, knowing that I am trusting someone that isn't my blood." He tightened his hold on her slightly, reminding both of them that they were both there. "I came here for my sister – I didn't expect to find myself trusting anyone else. I didn't want to trust anyone else." His eyes snapped back, piercing into hers. "But then I met you – someone that I wanted to trust, against every instinct my mind was telling me. Every thought in my head was telling me to run, but I wanted to _trust you._ "

She felt the same way. She wanted to trust him too, against everything in her. _She wanted it._ She wanted him. It was both something that seemed to fall into place and something they both had to fight for.

"I trust you, Clarke. Against every rational thought in my head. I trust you." Their eyes met again.

"It terrifies me," she said.

"It scares me too," he agreed. "But I feel like I _know you._ I told myself I wouldn't talk to anyone except Octavia. I was only here for her. I was only here to protect her and make sure that she would win. But when I seen you at your reaping – head held high and eyes sharp, I couldn't get you out of my head." His face was flushed as he said it. Even though her mind was spinning, her heart flipped at hearing this.

"You noticed me at my reaping?" she questioned. Bellamy snorted and nodded, her cheeks flushing even more. _Gods, when did he get so cute?_

She adverted her eyes to the hem of her sweater. She didn't want to admit to him that she did the _exact_ same thing with him. She noticed him at his reaping too. From the moment he volunteered, she couldn't get him out of her mind. She was intrigued by him. He was an older brother, so willing to sacrifice his own life for his sister's. He was selfless, independent, and confident, but not cocky.

"It terrifies me that I trust you," he continued speaking. "I never wanted to go to the Games, but now that people I _care_ about are going there – I am beyond terrified." He struggled to admit his feelings, and she understood. It went against all rational thought and all instinct to _care_ and _trust_ another tribute. It had been ingrained into them to fight and to despise other tributes. "I don't want to lose anyone."

He laughed dryly. "I'm terrified by it all, actually. I'm scared of trusting you, and the extra danger it puts Octavia in. But something inside of me is telling me to _do it._ I want to trust you, Clarke, and I do." She squeezed his hand and stayed silent. "I am scared that we're going to the arena in a day. Did you notice it's only a day away?" She nodded.

"Gods, the feeling of dread is terrible. We're going to have to go into an arena and fight to the death." Bellamy closed his eyes and let his head fall against the wall. "I have trained my whole life to do that, but I don't _want_ to. I don't want to have to fight. I don't want to lose my sister, or anyone else for that matter. I'm terrified for Octavia.

"I'm terrified that I won't be able to save her. I gave up _everything_ to fight for her – to protect her. What if I'm not good enough? What if I'm not able to protect her? What do I do then?" Clarke knew the fear of failure. She hadn't been enough for her dad. She was terrified of not being enough for her alliance. _She understood._ "I'm scared I won't be enough to protect her. I'm scared I'll lose her in there. The only reason I volunteered was to keep her safe and to get her back home. What if I fail at that?"

He took a deep breath and looked towards the sky. An eerie smile came across his face. "And I'm terrified of dying." He looked over to where Clarke sat, listening intently. "I'm terrified to die."

Clarke sucked in a breath between her teeth. "I am too." She had been expecting death for the past year, but it was impossible to get used to the idea. She doubted she would ever be prepared to die. He closed his eyes and turned his face back to the sky.

"I volunteered, knowing that I wouldn't be coming back home. I knew I was going to die. I'm _willing_ to die – especially if it means keeping someone I love safe. But that doesn't make it any less terrifying." He rubbed his face again.

 _She knew that feeling._ Dying was terrifying, even if she knew it was coming.

"I don't want to die. All I ever wanted was to save my sister. To give her a chance at a better life." He sighed tiredly again, like verbalizing his thoughts was exhausting. "This is one of my last days." It sent a chill up Clarke's spine to talk about it. "I know it is. But I've just been thinking _so much_ of what could've been. What would my life look like if I hadn't volunteered for the Games?"

 _What if? What if her life was different? What if_ his _life was different?_

"I think about that too." Clarke smiled slightly. The possibilities of living a happier life sent a wave of joy and sorrow through her. _She would never get to live any of the lives she came up with._ "What would your life be like? If you weren't here."

"I wanted to get old," Bellamy said without hesitation. "Like _really_ old." He chuckled at that, which made Clarke smile. "I wanted to go to school – real school, not just the academy. I had plans to go to a university maybe, if I saved enough for it. Study something. Be good at it. Become a teacher."

He sighed wistfully. "That's what I really wanted; to become a teacher. I love seeing the face of someone when they are taught something they didn't know before. It's so full of joy and wonder. They're so hopeful for the future and so _proud._ I've seen it plenty of times growing up with Octavia." He turned his head slightly towards her. "I seen it the other day with you, too. When you finally figured out how to swing a sword." Clarke smiled softly at that, touched by the memory. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"You're a good teacher," she pointed out. He managed to teach her how to fight in just one day. He gave her the skills needed for her survival. "You would've made a great teacher, you know."

They were silent for a moment before he continued. "I wanted to get married to someone I loved and have a bunch of kids." He smiled again, like he was giddy over the topic. "Growing up with Octavia made me realize that I want that experience – over and over again. Witnessing their first steps, hearing their first words. I wanted it all."

Clarke didn't say anything back to him, but she smiled. The way he interacted with Octavia and the way he cared about Charlotte made her convinced he would've been a great father.

She could almost imagine a bunch of tiny Bellamys running around. _Dark messy hair, tan skin, brown eyes, big smiles._ He would've been the dad to start reading to them the second they were born, and probably would've sang lullabies for them to sleep. He would have sacrificed everything to bring them into the world, and to give them a good life – just like he did with Octavia. He would have been a good father. _Too bad the world would be deprived of that._

"What's out there, after we die?" Bellamy's eyes searched hers for answers.

"I wish I knew," Clarke muttered. She rested her head against the wall and looked up at the stars. "Dying would be so much easier if I knew what came after." He stiffened at her words. She realized too late what she said.

 _She told him that she was expecting to die._

"You don't think you'll win?" he asked.

She bit her tongue. From the moment they first started talking, she hoped that she would never accidentally let him know that she didn't plan to make it out of the arena. _Nobody knew that._ Her allies and Kane both thought that she was fighting for her survival. _They didn't know she never actually had a shot at it._ They didn't know the Capitol would ensure she would die.

She didn't want to tell him that she needed to die because she was a threat. She didn't want to tell him that the Capitol wanted her dead – _she couldn't_. The Peacekeeper's words still rang in her ears just as loud as they did the day she was boarding the train. She would have to pay the consequences if she told anyone about what she knew. She knew there would be consequences if she mentioned the Capitol's plan for her.

"I think the odds are against me," she said with a grimace. It wasn't a lie – not really. No odds or poor odds – she would die regardless.

Bellamy looked confused. "But you're doing really well. You really improved in training – you said so yourself, when you said I was a good teacher. And you got a really high score, putting you among the top tributes this year. You have a strong group of allies, most of which scored well. You're going to have sponsors – I have no question about that." Clarke felt bad for him. He was trying to reassure her over something that was already set in stone. "You have as good of a chance of winning as I do, Clarke. You can win."

 _No. I can't._

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him that even if she trained for years, she would never be able to win these Games. She was already as good as dead; her fate had been sealed that second her name was read from that piece of paper.

She wasn't like him or the other tributes. She wasn't there by bad luck or because she volunteered. She was there for a single purpose; her death. She was there so the information she knew would never get out. She was there to die.

She never really had odds to win. She never had a chance.

She glanced at Bellamy again, thankful that it was him sitting beside her and not anyone else. At least with him, she felt like she was sheltered from the rest of the world. With him, she felt like she could talk about anything and things would be okay.

 _She wanted to tell him._ She wanted to tell him everything. He made her feel safe and he made her feel like things could be okay – and she needed that right now. She wanted to _choose_ something in her life, and to own that choice.

She wanted to choose to be vulnerable with him. She wanted to bare her entire soul to him. She wanted to share her demons and the ugly truths.

But Clarke knew that telling him about her time in jail was dangerous, even if she didn't tell him the exact reason for being there. It would be putting him in unnecessary risk. Any sliver of information that he had meant he was in danger of the Capitol deeming him a threat too.

But she wanted him to know that she wasn't worth wasting time trying to save. She wanted him to know that she was planning to die, just like he was. She didn't expect to make it out alive – not because of a sacrifice, but because of a corrupt government.

 _She wanted this._

"I'm going to die," she said, her voice strong. Her chin tilted high and her face settled into stone. _This was who she was._ Strong. Unbreakable. Unwavering. He looked curiously at her, but stayed silent. "They won't let me live. Survival has never been an option." Her voice had dropped dangerously low. Bellamy leaned closer to her, trying his best to hear her voice.

"Who is 'they?'" he mumbled back, his voice equally as low as hers. She took a deep breath and examined his face.

 _She trusted him._ She wanted someone to know who she was – who she truly was – before she died. The Capitol could own her life and her death, but they wouldn't own this decision.

 _Tell him._

"The Gamekeepers. The Capitol." He looked even more confused than before. She could see panic rising in his eyes and she felt the same emotion rise in her. _He wouldn't believe her._ "Bellamy, you have to know something about me. I'm not who you think I am." She closed her eyes. She didn't want to see his reaction when she told him about her past. She was too scared to see how he would react. She didn't want to see the judgment or the disgust she knew he would have. She didn't want to see his face when he thought she was lying. "I'm a criminal, Bellamy."

He was silent for a long moment. She could hear him wet his lips, but refused to open her eyes to look at him. Finally, he spoke. "What do you mean?"

Clarke didn't want to paint a target on his back. She wasn't going to tell him everything – she couldn't. She just wanted to expose the tiniest piece of her soul to him. "I was convicted of a crime back in my home district. I was arrested last year and have been in lock-up ever since." She still didn't want to open her eyes to look at him.

He was silent again. Clarke felt a pang of pain in her chest. _He thought she was a liar. She thought she was making all of this up._ Or, worse, he believed her and felt betrayed. Oh, gods, did he feel betrayed that she didn't tell him the truth earlier?

Yet, his hand was in hers still. He hadn't pulled away from her, even if his body had gone completely still. She pegged it up to shock.

Finally, he let out a breathless laugh. "Somehow, I did _not_ peg you as a criminal," Bellamy teased. _He believed her._ And he was smiling? Clarke cracked her eye open at his tone, feeling surprised by his reaction. "Gods, what did you do? Steal from the rich and give to the poor?"

Even though she stood by her choices that lead her to her time in lock-up, she knew what she wanted was illegal. She didn't regret her choices, but that didn't mean that she was oblivious to how dangerous it was.

He had to understand that. He had to understand that she was dangerous.

"I'm serious, Bellamy," she said. _Please believe me._ "I'm a criminal in the eyes of the Capitol. I committed a crime, okay? I'm dangerous."

"I'm a criminal in the eyes of the academy," he countered. Still, he turned somber, like he was finally realizing the weight of her words. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to… I don't know. This is a new situation, you know?" She nodded at that. She doubted that if their positions were reversed she would be dealing with the situation any differently. "What did you do?" She chewed her lip.

"I can't say." She sighed deeply, her head falling into her hands. Not telling the truth was just as hard as lying to him. "The only reason I got out of lock-up was because I was sent to the Hunger Games. I can't talk about it."

"It's fine," he reassured her. "I don't need to know. I was just curious." They were silent for a long moment. Clarke couldn't get over the fact that he wasn't calling her a liar or running away. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that he was still sitting beside her, her hand in his. He broke the silence after a moment. "Tell me about it. Your time in lock-up. If you can." Clarke scrunched up her nose.

"It's not as spectacular of a story you think it'll be," she pointed out. He shrugged in response and urged her to continue anyways. "Well, I was arrested last year for my crimes. It happened when I was emotional and hurting and lost. Shoving me into lock-up just made those feelings worse. I was put in isolation, and I've been there ever since." His eyes widened at that.

"You were in isolation for a year?" She nodded. He swallowed thickly. "Damn."

"Yeah. It sucked." She closed her eyes as she thought back to being all alone. The past year was filled with memories she tried to forget, but it was _so easy_ to remember them. Jus thinking about it made her feel like she was back in her cell. "It was awful."

"I can't even imagine."

"The first weeks were the worst. I didn't know what was going to happen to me. I didn't know what day it was. Hell, I didn't even know what time it was. They had these crappy fluorescent lights on _all the time_ and I never knew if it was night or not. I used to base my sleeping schedule off of when Peacekeepers brought me food." Her hands felt cold as she spoke and her heart felt heavy. "I would scream," she recalled. "I would scream for hours. At first it was to be let out, but I came to terms with that quickly. It didn't take long for my pleas to turn to seeing the sky or talking to my mom or having a conversation."

"This was lock-up under the Capitol, right?" Bellamy asked, his voice unsure. Clarke peeked at him through her lashes, but nodded her head. She didn't know how he would take her experience at all. After all, it wasn't a secret that most Peacekeepers came from District 2 – his home. His home district was known for being the people to run those exact prisons she was in.

"I spent most of my days reading books and drawing." Her lips curled into a smile at that. "I used to draw and paint whenever I'd get the chance. It used to make me feel _normal,_ since that's what I did before I was arrested. I think I did it to help me remember what the sky actually looked like." Clarke paused and Bellamy didn't dare interrupt. She pulled her hand away from his, running both of her hands through her hair.

"It was the worst experience of my life. I lived everyday, not knowing when I would see another person again. I never knew if I would see my mom again, or see my friends again. I didn't know if I would even get to see the sky again, or hear the birds chirp, or smell freshly cut grass. And not even things as simple as that; I never knew if I would smell my mom's cookies again, or be able to feel my carpet on my feet, or spend another night reading over my books. _I never knew if I could go home again._ And I was right. I never got to go home."

"You came straight here from lock-up?" Bellamy asked. Clarke nodded.

"Yeah. I woke up in my cell, got thrown into the reaping, was leaded onto the train, and I started my life as a tribute. I never got to have those things – those things of home. I said bye to my mom, but it wasn't the same as _living_ and being at home. It was almost like a reminder of what my home used to be, and how I was losing that."

"I can't get over that you were in isolation for a year… How did… How did you _survive_?"

 _It was hard._ Being trapped with only her thoughts for a year was nearly impossible.

"I was locked in this cell for a year, but they also locked me in my mind. I drove myself in circles, wondering what my friends were doing. I wondered what Wells was doing at that moment – if he was living his life, or if he was battling his own demons. I wondered how my mother was – if she was grieving me and my dad, or if she had moved on by that point. I wondered if I would ever be able to tell her sorry for not being there when she needed me the most." She didn't even realize when she started crying. She laughed wetly and wiped her tears. "I'm sorry. That probably wasn't what you were looking for."

"It was _exactly_ what I was," he responded softly. He reached out again with his hand. Once again, he took her hand in his. His hand was worn from years of training and warm – it was something she had grown familiar with. His fingers laced with hers and she didn't hesitate to wrap her fingers around his. _It felt normal._ "I've told you this before, Clarke, and I will tell you as many times as you want to hear it. You're stronger than you realize." She smirked and stared at their interlocked hands.

"You know, you're one of the first people that has interacted with me in the last year." She didn't bring up the fact that he was the _first_ person to touch her with such care and comfort since before she was arrested. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable by that fact.

He was the first person she felt comfortable with again. He was the first person that made her feel supported. He was the first person that risked his own safety for hers. He was the first person to hold her hand, and to sit with her on the roof, and to expose his soul.

"You're a warrior, Clarke," he muttered.

He brushed his thumb against the back of her hand before he pulled away. Her smile faltered the slightest bit from the loss of contact, but she tried to hide it. Did he hold her hand only to bring her comfort? Was there something else there? It certainly felt like she was holding his hand for more than just the comfort of a human touch.

 _It was for his touch._

"You should use this to your advantage," he said suddenly, sitting up straighter.

"What?"

"Yeah. Being in isolation was hell, and I don't even know the half of it. It was awful in every way. I think you should use it to your advantage. Turn something that was terrible into something the _works_ for you." Clarke shook her head.

He didn't understand. How could she expect him to? She couldn't tell him about why she was in lock-up. She couldn't tell him about the threats that were made against her and the people she loved if she ever told the truth.

"I can't. They told me I can't talk about it."

Bellamy's excitement wasn't curbed. "Did they say you can't talk about the fact you spent the last year in jail, or just that you can't say _why_ you were in jail?" he questioned.

Clarke thought back. They never mentioned that she couldn't say she went to lock-up. Kane even knew that she was in isolation when she first met him, so it obviously wasn't a secret. Her whole district knew she was in lock-up, too. The only thing the Capitol wanted her to keep quiet about was the truth.

"They just said I couldn't say why."

"Good." She still didn't understand what he was getting at. "Then use the fact that you're a criminal to your advantage. The Careers already fear you – why else would they be targeting you? Sponsors are already lining up because of your high score, I'm sure. You have a whole team of allies already. _But use this._ Use what they cursed you with to your advantage." Clarke was still confused.

"I don't understand. How? How could being a criminal be an advantage?"

"You told me that you're considered a criminal by the Capitol. People don't need to know _why_ you went to lock-up. Actually, it's better if they don't know any details. It adds mystery. But if you bring up the fact that you committed a crime and was punished accordingly, people will be falling over themselves to learn more about you. The more interesting you seem to the crowd, the more sponsors you'll get."

The more sponsors that she would get, the better chance she had at surviving the longest and helping her allies.

"Just hearing the fact that you went to jail makes you such a badass. No other tribute could hold a candle to that. The Careers would fear you even more, knowing that you're technically a dangerous criminal." He chuckled like he just told a joke. "Huh. That's funny. To think you're actually a criminal." Clarke shook her head fondly at that and a soft smile was on her lips.

She was worried he would think of her differently – to judge her for her crimes and her past – but she was wrong. He wasn't mad at her for not telling him beforehand. He didn't think she was a liar. He didn't push her to tell him more than she could. He didn't push her away in fear and disgust. He didn't look at her like she was a different person.

Nothing had changed between them, except for the possibility that she felt lighter and closer to him than before. How did she ever come across someone that had so much care in his body? How was it physically possible for Bellamy to be so giving and so understanding?

"Thank you, Bellamy," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. He smiled at her before turning to look at the stars again.

She couldn't take her eyes off of him. Gods, he was stunning under the moonlight. His freckles stood out against his skin, and his eyes shinned under the stars. She watched as his mouth curled into a soft smile and the corners of his eyes crinkle the slightest. His chest rose and fell steadily with each breath he took. She glanced down at their intertwined hands, a smile on her face.

This man did things to her heart.

She cared about him. She cared about him _differently_ than the others.

This realization scared her, but she didn't have the same urge to run this time. She had the urge to hold onto his hand tighter. All she wanted was to sit with him, to share her life with him.

 _She was so screwed._

"You know, you never told me what you wanted to do if you weren't in the Games," Bellamy said, breaking the spell over them. "Or arrested, I guess," he added, turning back to her. She smiled sadly at that.

Talking and thinking about her future was one of her favourite pastimes while in isolation. At least she had hope then. Now, it was painful to think about. She knew that she would never be able to have what she always dreamed of. She knew she had no future.

"You're asking the girl that had months to think about this question," she pointed out.

"Good. You'll have a thought out answer."

"I would be going to school still, training to be a medic. I always grew up knowing that I wanted to help people. To save people. I wanted to be like my mom – strong, selfless, giving, brave. She was it all. She helped save so many people and she brought people hope and protected families. _I wanted to do that_. I was in school to do that too, but I never completed it. I was arrested before then." She frowned slightly at that. "Like you, I wanted to grow old. Find love. Have a family." She smirked at that. "I never was around kids too much, but I always thought I would have the _option_ for them in the future. And… Well, I want them. After being away from family and life and people for so long, I want to be surrounded by that until my last breath. I want to be surrounded by people I care about. And… kids. They hold so much hope for the future."

"They're so full of hope and life and promise," he agreed.

"Even when things got dark, children could light up the room. Even in the darkest of days at my district, they held so much joy and hope. I want that for myself – to bring that into the world. Any bit of brightness to lighten this dark world is a gift beyond words." Her lips twitched. "It's too bad that we can't have that." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, watching for his reaction. "Love, a family, children." He grasped her hand tighter.

Clarke continued talking. "I don't want to die." Unlike before, her voice wasn't filled with sadness. It was filled with determination and resistance. A spark of defiance burned inside of her. "I don't want to have to give up our future. I don't want to give up the idea of becoming a medic and saving lives. _I want to save lives, not take them._ But in a few days, I'll be forced to. I'll be forced to become someone I never wanted to be. A killer."

"I don't want to be a killer either," he admitted. "I don't want to be a monster. All I want to do is keep my sister safe."

Clarke was angry. _Gods, she was so angry._ She was furious with the world. They didn't deserve this – none of them did. And knowing that she couldn't do anything to change it made it worse.

"The Capitol took my life from me – they took our lives away from us. They took away our childhoods. They took away our choices. They took away our future. They took away our dreams." She clenched her jaw. Even if they had never been sent to the Games, it would be true. Their lives were never really theirs. The Capitol had been controlling everything from the beginning. _She hated the Capitol._ It was one of the only things she did hate in the world. _The Capitol, Peacekeepers, corruption, greed for power._ "They took away who we are – they always have, and they continue to do so."

In that second, Clarke remembered that Bellamy lived a different life than her.

He was from a Career district. He grew up being taught that the Capitol was their savior, that they should be worshiped. He was raised to believe that the Capitol was good and that they were protectors of their freedom.

He grew up in a different world. Instead of living in a district that feared the Games, his district thrived with them. They based their whole education system on honor of fighting in the arena.

"You don't need to look at me like that," Bellamy commented, lifting his eyebrow. Clarke was startled.

"What?"

"You're looking at me like you just accidentally ripped my favourite book," he pointed out. "You're looking at me like your hate for the Capitol is going to upset me."

"Well… Does it?"

"I was raised in a district that worships the Capitol," he said slowly. "But… Well…" He was struggling with his words. "The Capitol isn't as great as many people like to believe," he finally said. "I grew up with my mom using every ounce of energy to provide for us, but we still struggled. I grew up knowing that if there were well-off families in District 2, there had to be even _more_ privileged people in the Capitol. And I was right. My mentor told me there are special drinks here that make you get sick – just so you can eat more food. _How is that right?_ There are so many people out there suffering and dying, but the Capitol just doesn't care. People here are eating for pleasure, but there are people out _there_ that aren't even able to eat for necessity." He sighed in relief, like his thoughts had been building inside of him for so long. "So, no, I'm not offended by your hate for the Capitol, because I guess I kinda hate them too."

"I'm sorry," she said. She shouldn't have assumed that he would have a love for the Capitol based on his district. She knew he had a hard life growing up.

"It's okay," he responded and shrugged. "I guess I'm not like other Careers."

"You're better than the others."

Clarke wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him everything. _How she knew about District 13, how her father wanted to tell Panem, how he was assassinated for trying to do the right thing, how she was isolated because she wanted to do the same._ They were hiding a secret so large from the citizens that she was sent to her death for knowing of it. What kind of government did that? What kind of government killed kids?

She wanted to tell him. _But she couldn't._ For both of their safeties, she couldn't breathe a single word of it to him.

Instead, she thought of her impending doom.

"While I'm scared of dying, I'm just as terrified to win the Games." Her stomach felt queasy just thinking of it. "It means I would have to lose people I care about. There can only be one person standing at the end. Whoever wins will have to lose everyone that they spoke to during this past week and that _is horrifying._

"These are the people that have agreed to stand by my side, no matter what. No matter how hard it gets and no matter how scared they are, they agreed that we would work as a team to survive. They accepted me for who I am, faults and all." She considered her words carefully. "I don't want to win if the only reason why is because I sacrificed my friends. If I know I can do something to save them, I'll do it. I don't want to be Victor if it means I had to sacrifice my friends and myself to get there."

"I don't want to live in a world where I knew I could've done something more to save Octavia; that's one of the reasons why I volunteered for her," he said quietly. "I knew I could volunteer. I knew I could help her. I knew I could protect her. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do it, and something happened to her."

"Octavia is lucky to have you," Clarke said. He turned towards her again, a crooked smile on his face. They didn't say anything for a long moment, choosing to stare at each other instead.

Clarke wanted to spend hours with him. She wanted to hold his hand and sit beside him, emptying her soul. She wanted to memorize the mosaic of browns in his eyes. She wanted to map the constellations of freckles on his face.

Gods, she wanted more time with him.

Bellamy's grin became lopsided after a long moment. "You know, you really do look good in my sweater," he said. Clarke laughed.

"I'm sure I do, Blake."

"I'm serious."

"He's not kidding," Octavia muttered sleepily from the ground. Clarke jumped at the sudden voice and a blush rose on her cheeks. Octavia just caught them flirting – _again._ The younger girl turned to face them and rubbed her eyes sleepily. "My big brother never jokes, not unless you count historical jokes. He's a hoot at a party."

"You're hilarious, O," Bellamy muttered dryly. He let out a long sigh and brushed some of her hair off her face. "Well, I guess we better get back inside, huh?"

"Yeah." Clarke agreed reluctantly. It was getting late and she knew she would need the sleep. She let out a small yawn and Octavia laughed at her. "Hey – you were the one sleeping, not me."

Bellamy climbed off the ground and helped Octavia to her feet. Clarke followed suit, her eyes unable to leave Bellamy. He was infatuated with the stars and he had an awe-struck expression on his face. It was one she hadn't seen before and she couldn't get enough of it.

"You're right," he said. "It makes you feel more alive out here. More human." He turned back to her. "I like it."

"I like it too."

He took a half step forward, his hand reaching out towards her waist. Clarke felt her heart flutter and she sucked in a quick breath. _It looked like he was reaching for her._ For what, she didn't know, but she wanted it.

Before he could reach her, he froze. Instead of continuing his movements, he smiled and pulled Octavia closer to him. "Goodnight, Clarke."

"Goodnight," Clarke replied, trying to hide the disappointment from her voice. _Gods,_ she really wanted to find out what he was reaching for her for. "Good luck on your interviews tomorrow."

"I don't need luck," Octavia muttered tiredly. "I'm…" She stopped talking again, resting her head on Bellamy's shoulder. "I'm freaking fantastic." Her voice was muffled by his shoulder. He shook his head and chuckled.

"Gods, O." He ruffled her hair affectionately before turning back to Clarke. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." She smiled at his words. It was another promise from him. She seemed to be growing used to those. _He always promised there would be a tomorrow._

"See you then."

With those words, they left the roof and returned to their rooms. Even after changing into her sleeping clothes and climbing under the covers, she couldn't fall asleep. All she could think about was the man on the roof.

 _How his hand felt in hers._

 _How his smile lit up his whole face._

 _How her name seemed to roll of his tongue._

 _How his face had been mapped in her mind._

 _How his name brought a sense of happiness to her._

Clarke had been so leery to trust him. She didn't want to be betrayed. She didn't want to lose someone she cared about. It was easier to lose someone that was a stranger than someone that she felt close to.

But what good did her worry and her reservations do? _Nothing_. She still felt drawn to him. She still felt a connection between them. She still felt herself trusting him more and more.

 _What was the point of resisting it?_

They were both going to die in under two weeks. What was the point in holding back? She could honestly say that she didn't see one anymore. It used to be so she wouldn't get hurt, but she knew she was going to get hurt regardless. She already cared for him, what would change if she cared about him a little bit more?

She decided she was going to spend her last days – and their last days – without any reservations. She didn't want to die with regrets. She didn't want to die, knowing that she could've done better or she could've done more.

What was done was done.

There were so many things outside of her control, but she refused to add this to the list. She could control this. She could _choose_ this fate.

 _Screw the Capitol. Screw the Games._

This was her life. This was her story.

 _And she was taking it back._

She wasn't going to die with any regrets. She wasn't going to watch someone else die, knowing that she could've loved them more. Did she really want to watch Charlotte die and think back, wondering if she could've made her smile more? Did she want to watch Raven die and wonder if she could've loved her more? Did she want to watch Monty die and wonder if they could've talked longer? Did she want to watch Lincoln die and regret not getting to know him more?

No.

She didn't want to die with regrets. She didn't want to live her final days without any reservations.

 _This was it._

The Capitol had taken so much of her life away – her father, her freedom, her voice, her ability to trust, her choice, her humanity, and, eventually, they would take her life. They owned her in more ways than she could imagine.

 _But not this._

They wouldn't own how she spent her last days.

They wouldn't own how much she loved her allies. They wouldn't own how much she trusted them and cared for them.

 _This was her._

Clarke decided that she was going to throw caution to the wind. She was already going to get hurt. What did it matter if she let herself care just a little bit more for her friends? What did it matter if she let herself care just a little bit more for Bellamy?

It didn't. _It didn't matter anymore_. She was going to die regardless of how she lived her final days and she didn't want to spend her final moments preventing herself from trusting more, from laughing more, from loving more.

As she fell asleep that night, she decided to take back her life from the Capitol.

 _She was going to spend her final days living the way she wanted to._

 **I really loved writing this chapter, because I feel like it's a fairly huge deal to Clarke to let someone else know about her time in lock-up and to talk about her feelings of isolation during that time. Bellamy is really the only person she trusts enough to talk about these things with. (too bad they're going to be in the arena soon. oops)**

 **Re: Bellarke Fanwork Awards (bfwa on Tumblr).** I have super exciting news! I have been nominated for the BFWA! I am so proud to say I have 16 different nominations for this fic, other fics, and as a creator. I just wanted to take a second to say a _huge_ thank you to everyone who has nominated me! I'm honestly so touched by this, and I'm completely blown away.

This fic (Simple Pleasures) is nominated in THREE categories! It is nominated for "Best Angst Work in Progress," "Best Enemies/Friends to Lovers," and "Best Slow Burn"! Voting opens today at midnight EST and ends 24 hours after that. If you're enjoying this fic, I would be so appreciative if you voted!

Even being nominated at all is so special to me. It means so much to be nominated alongside so many fanfiction writers that I look up to. And it is just the best feeling to be appreciated. Thank you soooooo much.

I encourage you all to vote, even if it isn't for me! There are a ton of beautiful fics and talented creators nominated this year, and these awards are just a great way in general to support the fic writing community for this fandom.

Thank you again! It means the world to me and I'm so, so touched.

* * *

 **Thank you again for all of the reviews, favourites, and follows. Every time I see the stats climb higher on this fic, I get so unbelievably happy. I've adored writing this fic, and it's a great feeling knowing that there are people out there who enjoy reading it. Thank you!**

 **Thanks for reading and for the support! Make sure to vote for the BFWA!** Once again, I am in five semifinal categories! You can find them on Tumblr at bfwa. _Go vote for your favourite fanfics (and if this is one of them - go vote for Simple Pleasures)._ I'm in some tough categories (all of the authors I'm nominated beside are fantastic authors) so every vote counts. It'll take _maybe_ five minutes and I would be so appreciative! Voting closes on December 2 at 11:59pm EST. I'll keep everyone updated on Twitter (pawprinter1) and Tumblr (pawprinterfanfic) about these awards.

 **Next update will actually be mid-December! Thanks for reading and sorry for such a long wait!**

 **Paw**


	16. Chapter 16: Goodbye, My Friends

**I had the best surprise when I opened this chapter to do some pre-editing stuff. I realized that I edited it fully when I originally wrote it back in early August. Thank you past me!**

 **For that reason, this update came a little sooner than I expected. I really only planned to read over it today to see what would need to be edited but I'm more than happy with the way this turned out!**

 **Warning:** coarse language, mentioning of death/blood/gore. This is one of the last chapters before the arena, which increases the amount of blood/gore/violence/death that is present. Please keep that in mind! If you have any concerns, please reach out to me and I'm more than happy to discuss.

 **A wonderful announcement regarding Bellarke Fanwork Awards (bfwa) at the bottom! (Yay)**

 **Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter 16: Goodbye, My Friends**

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As Clarke entered the hallway leading to the stage for the interviews, she caught sight of Charlotte jumping up and down excitedly. Seeing her so excited brought a smile to her face, even though she had dread in her heart and fear in her veins.

The young girl was wearing a bright pink dress that sparkled with every movement, which was sure to catch the eye of the cameras when on stage. Her shoes were black, paired with freshly ironed white socks. Clarke couldn't help but smile widely when she seen how excited the young girl was. Despite all of the chaos around them, she still found reasons to smile. _The joy of a child._ It was what her and Bellamy had talked about the previous night.

She waved back and moved towards where Charlotte stood with Lincoln. They were the only two tributes from her alliance already waiting for the interviews to start, which was surprising. Usually Monty and Raven arrived before her.

"Hey, Clarke," Lincoln greeted as she stepped in line with the District 8 duo. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a bright pink shirt underneath. He gestured to his outfit and grimaced. Clarke couldn't help but crack a tiny smile at his reaction to his torturous outfit. "Don't comment."

"I wasn't going to," she said, a laugh already bubbling out of her chest. Did these stylists not have a clue about fashion, or was fashion so different in the Capitol that it was laughable? Either way, it was clear Lincoln was just as uncomfortable as she felt. She gestured to her own dress, a grimace on her face. "Mine isn't much better. I'm just thankful I'm not wearing that train conductor's outfit again."

Instead of the tiny and uncomfortable outfit she was forced to wear for the tribute parade, she was wearing a knee-length black dress with red lace overtop. Both dresses flowed to her elbows and plunged at her neckline. The black dress underneath fell to her knees, while the lace fell to her ankles. She could barely walk in her heels, but managed to stay standing thanks to a quick lesson from her escort.

She didn't know who would ever put themselves through this torture. Her feet hurt. Her face felt like it wasn't truly her face, she was wearing so much make-up. She felt ridiculous. Her hair felt scratch from the obscene amounts of hairspray they used. She was already looking forward to her shower as soon as the interviews were done; at least she could get back to her normal self then.

 _Or as normal as she could be the night before the arena._

"You look _so_ pretty, Clarke," Charlotte pointed out, her eyes wide with wonder. Clarke rubbed her head affectionately, but she ducked out from under her hand quickly, a playful expression on her face.

"Me? Have you seen yourself? You look like the star of the show." Charlotte's cheeks lit up in a blush and Clarke was filled with affection.

Gods, when did she start feeling like an older sister to the District 8 tribute? Sometime between the first moment she laid eyes on her and now, she had become so protective over her and had grown to care about her.

She cared about them all.

Clarke glanced to Lincoln. While he was the newest to the group, she cared about him too. She had spent her final days training and strategizing with him. He was so knowledgeable about the weapons and had identified the strengths of each group member, plus he had a mind for strategy when it came to fighting. She hoped that it never came to it, but they had to be prepared.

Charlotte seemed to like Lincoln a lot, too, which helped. Just knowing that Charlotte trusted him so much made it easier for Clarke. Even though Charlotte was young, she trusted her judgment.

"Well, aren't you just _special_ ," Raven muttered, sliding up beside Lincoln. While Raven was usually bubbly, it looked like something had put her in a bitter mood.

It wasn't hard to guess what did it. Clarke had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing at her friend. She wore a long green dress that flowed to the ground, which wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the rest of the costume. The sleeves hung past her hands, hanging just above her knees.

Sure, that was bad, but it wasn't even the worst part. What made the whole outfit a nightmare was the large purple headpiece. There was a ball of purple wires wrapped around her head, which incorporated her hair somehow. Seeing her hair pulled in dozens of directions looked ridiculous and painful.

"I hate everyone who ever gave these plans the green light," she growled, tugging gently on the basket on her head. She looked livid, and rightly so. Charlotte snickered.

"Green light. You're funny, Raven. You know… Considering you're literally a green light." The older girl looked at her, her eyes void of amusement. Clarke pressed her lips tightly together to suppress her laughter.

Monty looked just as bad as Raven, and just as annoyed too. He wore an all green suit again, just like the tribute parade. He also had a purple headpiece, identical to Raven's. Clarke thought he got off lucky; at least his hair wasn't braided into the wires.

"It's official. Our stylist has no clue what they're doing." He pulled on the collar of his suit, an agonizing expression on his face. "Seriously? How hard can it be? Just put your tributes in something that don't make them look incompetent."

"Well… at least you got a good score," Lincoln pointed out. "Maybe nobody will even care about what you are wearing."

"I mean, I get it… kind of." Raven pinched the bridge of her nose. "His last name is Green. We're wearing green. Ha ha, very funny." She obviously didn't find it funny, judging on the flames in her eyes. "But why am _I_ dressed in green? Why aren't we… I don't know. Dressed in black or something?"

"Black?" Lincoln questioned.

"Raven. Raven black." She waved her hand in the air, her shoulders slumping. "Listen, I don't really care. I just am starting to hate the colour green." She sighed and forced a smile. "Oh well."

"Good job on your scores," Monty complimented. The mood shifted easily with his comment. Raven instantly perked up and Clarke nodded in agreement.

"We all did really well with our scores," she praised.

She was proud of her group. While they didn't seem like they belonged together, they worked well. They were misfits – two geniuses, a criminal, a child, and a warrior. They clicked though, and Clarke was thankful for that. Maybe they could survive if they stuck together. _They could do this._

"We did, didn't we?" Raven said, her troubles forgotten.

"Our mentor said that he's already looking into sponsors," Lincoln said. "I don't really know if he was allowed to tell us that, but… Well, he did. And things are looking good for us."

"Thank the gods," Clarke sighed, relief flooding her. Kane hadn't mentioned anything to her about sponsors, but it was like Lincoln said – they weren't supposed to know anything before the arena.

Knowing there were already sponsors interested in their alliance was good. _It was so good._ Clarke felt like it lifted the world from her shoulders. She wasn't failing her ragtag team. That was something she was terrified about; failing her new-found friends. She wanted to be a good leader for them – she needed to be. They were counting on her.

Monty stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. "Good. That's good." He snorted and shook his head. "We survived training, and now we just need to survive tonight," he said lightly. As soon as the words left his mouth, a sour look came over his face and he grimaced. "Sorry. Bad choice of words."

 _Survival._

It had been on all of their minds since the day they were reaped. With every hour, the clock ticked closer to when they would be placed in that arena.

Clarke hoped her hands weren't shaking like she thought they were.

"I was going to say that after tonight, we'll need to _start_ surviving!" Raven's tone was light as she tried to joke, but a heavy silence settled over them. It was a crushing realization that they would be headed to the arena in less than 12 hours. They had the interviews, the night, and then they would be tossed inside to compete.

It made Clarke sick. She physically felt like she could throw up or pass out. _No._ Don't think about it. _Don't think._ It'll be fine.

She felt like dread weighed heavily on her shoulders, like she slowly being suffocated by it. She had to clench her hand into a fist and bite down tightly to keep from showing her fear.

She had to stay positive for her group. They were counting on her, and she had to make sure she didn't let them down. She had to be strong for them.

"We'll be okay," she said lightly, pulling Charlotte close to her body. The young girl gripped the side of her skirt. Clarke could feel her body shaking too. "As long as we stick to the plan, we will do alright."

 _The plan._ She hoped that things went according to plan, and she hoped that she didn't help construct a way for them to die. Kane seemed to agree with their plan, and so did the other mentors, but it still terrified her. Nobody knew what would happen in that arena. Nothing was predictable.

Still, she was glad they had _something._ The other day, during their last moments of training, they managed to come up with a plan for the first day in the arena. While she knew that they would have to deviate from the plan for survival, it was nice having something to think on and rely on. It gave her mind something to do; she felt like she was actually _doing something._

Gods, that was the worst part of it all. She knew her death was approaching. She knew their lives would be at stake. She knew they would have to fight with everything inside of them. _She knew this._ But she couldn't prepare. _She couldn't do anything to prepare._

They didn't know the arena terrain. They didn't know what the cornucopia would look like. They didn't know what each tribute would do during the bloodbath. Would it be a full fight like it usually was, or would tributes scatter like that one time eleven years ago?

 _She didn't know._ It was almost impossible to plan something she could rely on. Thinking of _something_ – even if it wasn't a plan they would keep for long – kept her mind busy, though, and she was thankful for that. Perfecting a plan in her head placated that fear she had because at least she was doing _something._

One thing that wouldn't change was the basics of the plan, unless things in the arena turned to hell. They would all meet at Charlotte's pedestal, wherever that might be. They all agreed that Charlotte shouldn't be left alone, so Lincoln and Raven agreed to go meet her while Clarke and Monty charged into the bloodbath to collect weapons.

She knew it was risky, but it was the best they could do. Out of their full plan, this was the one thing Kane was against, claiming it was too much risk without much return. _Part of her agreed,_ but she couldn't listen to that logic. She had to provide for all of them – food, water, shelter, weapons. The only way she could do that was by heading into the bloodbath.

While Charlotte had become more attached Clarke, she had also grown close to Lincoln. They knew one of them had to stay behind and take care of her while the rest of them tried to collect as much as they could. Monty was going in with Clarke, as she was decent with a sword and he was good at hand to hand combat – they could work together to collect as much as possible and to keep each other safe.

Lincoln was the group's best chance to staying alive after the bloodbath, so they agreed he shouldn't risk his life any more than possible during those first few moments. Raven agreed to stay behind to monitor the situation. She knew what needed to be done. If things got too bad, she would be the person to have to say the rest of the alliance would have to leave.

Deciding those roles was hard for Clarke. Who was she to say who should risk their lives and who should stay off to the sidelines? Who was _she_ to say who would live and would would die? It tore her up. They hadn't even gone in the arena, but the guilt of her choices were already eating away at her.

 _What if she chose wrong? What if someone died because she made the wrong choice? What if she wasn't careful enough, and someone suffered because of that?_

It was terrifying. Along with the dread hanging on her shoulders was _responsibility._ It weighed just as much as the dread, actually. She was terrified of this responsibility she had jumped into. She wanted what was best for her group – of course she did, and she would be willing to do anything to give them that – but it was terrifying knowing that her poor choices would impact all of them.

Clarke could sense apprehension in Raven as they stood together. She was chewing on her lip and had her arms tightly crossed around her torso, closing herself off from the rest of the group. While she usually had no reservations, Clarke doubted the strongest of them would be immune to the fear.

Monty must've sensed Raven's unease, too. He bumped his shoulder to hers gently, drawing her attention to him. Clarke watched amusedly as they held a silent conversation with each other. She never did find out how long they had known each other, but it was a sight to see them interacting like they had been friends for their entire lives. She smiled softly, touched by their interaction.

She couldn't help but think of _her_ best friend. _Rather, her former one._ Wells.

Gods, he had been on her mind a lot recently. How could he not be? He followed her into the arena – he followed her to their deaths. And why? So he wouldn't be ridden with guilt over seeing her die for their crimes? She tried to push him from her mind. _She couldn't risk getting distracted now._

"Do you guys know what you're talking about tonight?" Lincoln asked, clearly trying to diffuse the tension that had settled around them. It didn't work very well. Everyone knew what was resting on these interviews; the main thing being sponsorship. They had to impress the citizens across Panem and those in the Capitol if they wanted any chance at survival.

Earlier that day, she sat down with Kane to discuss strategy. She was once again reminded about how thankful she was to have him as a mentor. He had done dozens of Games before, and had managed to have a handful of Victors during his time. He knew what he was doing.

He had plans for her to focus on her alliance and being a leader, but she brought up Bellamy's idea; for her to talk about being a criminal and in lock-up. It would show people that she wasn't afraid to get dirty, and she wasn't as innocent as she might seem.

Kane agreed that it was risky. She knew it was – it might turn off some sponsors if they seen her as a criminal. But, on the other hand, it would increase her odds of winning. People would know she wasn't to be messed with and that she was dangerous.

If more people were willing to bet on her and her odds went up, more sponsors would eventually trickle in. _At least, that was the goal._ He agreed that Bellamy's ideas were worth the risk.

Tonight, she would be talking about her past. The only other time she had ever talked about it was when Kane asked her questions the first time they met and during the previous night on the roof with Bellamy.

She was absolutely terrified. How would her allies look at her after it is revealed that she was a criminal? Would they feel betrayed by how she kept secrets from them? Would they be scared of her, knowing that she committed a crime so severe that she was put in isolation for a year?

How would the crowd react? She was terrified to even imagine the shocked and horrified reactions of people. What about the other tributes? Would they be afraid of her once they found out the truth? _What about sponsors?_

"Our mentors told us basically what to say, but I don't know..." Lincoln muttered, a sour expression on her face. Raven chuckled without humor.

"Listen, if you have a better idea, just do it. Our mentors and escorts and stylists don't always know what's best." She gestured to her outfit. "If you need evidence, here it is."

"I like what they told me," Charlotte said, her voice small and unsure. She stepped away from Clarke, straightening up. It looked like she was preparing herself for what was to come. "I think I'll use what they said."

"Well, they told you to act like a kid, which you are," Lincoln pointed out, a stiff smile on his face.

Clarke was almost too scared to ask. "What did they tell you to talk about?"

"They told me to act like a hardened killer." He looked woozy just thinking about it.

Clarke couldn't believe that's what his mentors would suggest for him. Lincoln was trained, yes, but he wasn't a killer. He was far from it. One of the first things he said was he all he wanted was to survive. She could recall his words perfectly; if he didn't have to kill a single person, he would consider that a success.

He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to kill. All he wanted was to survive. All he wanted was peace.

"Screw them," Raven snapped. She looked angry by the thought of Lincoln being forced to play up something he was clearly against. "You're not like that."

"How the hell do you even act like a hardened killer?" Monty asked. He looked just as upset as Raven did. He let out a breath of air and rubbed his nose. "I mean, if you feel like that is the best, then go for it. But… that's not you."

"I know." Lincoln's lips were pressed firmly into a straight line. "They think it'll make me look like a Career, which would draw more sponsors." His face softened. "I mean… I _want_ sponsors, but… Should I sacrifice who I am for that?"

"Should you sacrifice your own values and your own personality just to get more sponsors? No." Raven was firm with her answer and Monty shot her a look.

"It's up to you," Monty pressed.

"Well…" Lincoln looked uncomfortable. He glanced at Clarke and she forced out a small smile, trying to reassure him. "If I know something I can do will bring more sponsors for all of us, shouldn't I just do it? For the team? Is it selfish to, I don't know, _not_ do it and risk sacrificing sponsors?"

"You're wondering if you should take one for the team, so to say?" Monty questioned. Lincoln shrugged.

"Just last night, I promised myself I wouldn't pretend to be someone else," Clarke spoke. She held Lincoln's gaze. "Like Monty said, this is your choice. If it was me, I would want to be myself up there. Even if I know what I say might lose sponsors, you shouldn't feel obligated to be someone else. _Especially not for us._ You said it yourself; we got damn good scores." She reached for his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "We'll be fine regardless of what you choose. If you want to follow your mentor's plan, I'm all for it. If you want to be yourself on stage, I'm all for that too."

"Lincoln's too nice to be here," Raven determined. "He needs to find a different alliance. He's too selfless." Clarke found that ironic; Raven was selfless too. In fact, all of her allies were selfless in some way.

"What about me?" Charlotte looked mildly offended by Raven's comment. "I'm nice too, aren't I?" Raven snorted.

"You're right. District 8 needs to leave. They're too nice." Charlotte beamed at her.

"Thank you, Clarke," Lincoln said honestly. "That… helps."

"Actually, I… I want to talk about something, too." _Oh gods, where were these words coming from?_ "It has to do with what I was saying earlier; about promising myself that I would live without reservations." The words were out of her mouth before she could really think about their weight. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and her hands felt sweaty. _What if they were angry?_

"Please don't tell me you're leaving," Raven begged, her eyes widening. "I was just kidding. Nice people belong here too. I mean, Monty and I are assholes, but you guys aren't and you're the majority!"

"Hey, I take offence to that." Monty mockingly glared at her. Lincoln didn't seem too impressed.

"Probably not the best time to be joking," Lincoln pointed out. "Clarke looks like she's about to pass out." Raven and Monty both fell silent immediately. Clarke felt awkard under their suddenly intense gaze.

"He's right. Do you need to sit down?" Raven was already moving towards Clarke. She shook her head.

"No. I'm fine." She swallowed thickly. _Do it. Just say it._ "I just wanted you to know that you'll be hearing something about me tonight that you haven't heard before." If possible, her allies turned even more confused. "My mentor and I agreed that it's best for me to talk about my past. Well, actually, it'll be about the past year." She let out a breath of air. "I just wanted to talk to you guys before about it, so you aren't surprised when you hear me talk about it on stage."

"Great. I have no idea what you're talking about," Raven tried to make a joke, but it fell flat. She cleared her throat. "What are you going to talk about? What happened this past year that's so important?"

Clarke's heart felt like it stopped.

"I spent the last year in lock-up in District 6. In isolation, actually." She glanced around the circle of her allies as she spoke, trying to gauge their reaction. She couldn't see any emotion other than shock. Charlotte blinked rapidly and Raven started coughing, having choked on the air in her throat.

"Whoa. Didn't see that coming." Monty rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. His eyebrows had disappeared behind his bangs. Clarke glanced at Lincoln and her heart fell. His expression was one of stone.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should've mentioned it earlier." It wasn't a lie. She was sorry for not telling them earlier. It was pretty unfair for her to mention it to them and expect them to be okay with it. She should've given them a full disclosure when they first decided to make an alliance. "I didn't plan to use it as part of my strategy until today, but I really should've mentioned it before." Clarke felt terrible. The more she spoke, the more she regretted not talking to them earlier.

The silence wasn't helping either. _What were they thinking?_ Were they terrified with her? Did they feel betrayed? She wished someone would say _something._

"You were in lock-up?" Monty finally managed to say. "Just… Wow."

"If you don't want to stay in the alliance, I understand." Clarke was already running through the worst possible scenarios in her mind. "I mean, I-"

"What!?" Raven gasped, recoiling from where she stood behind Clarke. If possible, she looked even more surprised than she did when Clarke mentioned she was a criminal. "You're kidding, right?"

"No." Clarke was confused. Of course she wasn't joking about this. If her allies didn't trust her, it would only hurt for her to stick around them. "We have to have trust between us. If you're scared of me because of what I did in the past, or if you feel hurt and betrayed that I didn't mention anything earlier, then that trust is broken. Ha-"

"Were you arrested for murder?" Lincoln asked, interrupting Clarke. She was thrown off balance for a second at the quick change in subject. His face was still too emotionless to guess at what he was thinking.

"No."

"For attempted assassination?"

"No."

"For using poison?"

"No."

"For betraying someone?"

"No."

"For hurting anyone in _any_ way?"

"No." She had a feeling where this was going. "I'm dangerous though. You guys have to know that. I'm a criminal. I was in lock-up for a reason."

"But you never killed anyone?" Lincoln asked pointedly.

"No."

"Then I don't care," Lincoln determined. His face softened as he looked down at her. "You weren't arrested for hurting anyone so I don't feel like I'm in anymore danger than I was ten minutes ago. I don't care that you're technically a criminal, or whatever." Just like she did earlier for him, he reached for her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "I'm with you."

Clarke felt her throat growing tight. Out of everything in her life, her time in isolation was one that carried the most emotional baggage. She didn't regret what she did to end up in there, but she was terrified of how her life had changed from it.

For the past year, everyone had treated her with aggression or disappointment for her time in isolation. From the Peacekeepers treating her like she was worthless, to Capitol officials looking at her like she was disgusting, to Mayor Jaha looking at her with disappointment when she was arrested. Everyone she had encountered had thought she was dangerous or despicable or worthless because of what she did.

Hearing Lincoln so easily look past something so many others hadn't made her want to cry. It was similar to what happened with Bellamy the previous night. Their ability to look at her for her was surprising and so touching, especially when others had only been able to see her as a criminal before.

Raven was next to reach out for her arm. "You've been nothing but kind this whole week. You're my friend." Raven's voice was firm, just like Lincoln's. "I don't care either."

"Plus, we're all about to be fighting for our survival tomorrow, which includes doing worse than what you got arrested for, most likely," Monty pointed out. "I still trust you." Charlotte merely leaned back into Clarke's side and nodded her head. No words were needed from the younger girl.

Clarke couldn't form proper words of thanks. They couldn't begin to know how much their acceptance meant to her. "Thank you." She hoped that all of her emotion was shown with those simple words. "We're good?"

"Never changed," Lincoln pointed out. Clarke sent him a thankful smile. He was the first of their group to show his acceptance for her. He was the first not to care about her past or the demons she harbored. _She wouldn't forget that._

It didn't take too long for Monty to strike up a conversation with Lincoln about hand-to-hand combat tips. While Lincoln was the newest to the group, he had a wealth of information that each of them were dying to access. Seeing that the plan sent Monty into the bloodbath with Clarke, he was taking every opportunity to give them pointers and tips.

"When you're running, make sure to look up," he said for what Clarke was sure to be the hundredth time. "And make sure to pick up whatever weapon you come across first. Not only does that give you an advantage, even if you don't know how to use it, but it also takes away an advantage from someone else. How do you know that the person behind you isn't a master with that weapon?"

"That's a good point," Monty said. He tapped his chin with his finger a few times as he thought. "We already know you want a sword and so does Clarke. What about you, Raven?"

"Easy. Knives." Monty nodded.

"You're good with projectile weapons," Lincoln pointed out. "Axes and spears. Were you good with knives?"

"I could use them if I had to," he said. Monty made eye contact with Clarke. "How about we get one sword each, plus our own weapons."

"And we can each try to find a knife set for Raven," Clarke agreed. "Sure. Sounds good to me." She glanced down at Charlotte still pressed to her side. "Are you sure you didn't want anything from the cornucopia tomorrow?" She shrugged.

"We can give you the extra knife set," Monty told her. Charlotte shrugged again. "Well, we… Oh gods. Incoming," he hissed, his eyes locked on something just behind Clarke's shoulder. The group all fell silent at his warning. Raven's eyes widened and her lips turned into a frown as she seen who was coming.

Clarke didn't even have to turn to know who it was. There was only one other tribute that could get a reaction from Raven.

 _John Murphy._

She turned to look at who was approaching, and was happy to confirm she was right. Murphy was approaching the group, his eyes locked on Clarke as he did so.

"Griffin, just the tribute I was looking for," he greeted as soon as he was close enough. Clarke smiled at him. Murphy glanced around the group, clearly amused by their reactions. "Hey, Reyes."

"What do you want, Murphy?" Raven snapped, her patience already worn thin. Murphy chuckled.

"I'm here to talk to Clarke, actually, but nice to see you too." Murphy looked smug as he turned to face Clarke again. Clarke didn't have to turn to look at Raven to know she was glaring at him. "I want to accept your offer." She rose her eyebrows, once again thrown off balance.

"My offer?"

"Yeah. Your alliance. I'm in." Clarke's eyes widened. She almost forgot that she even asked him to join; that was before she felt confident in her group. While it was only a handful of days ago, it felt like a lifetime ago. He originally denied and even laughed at the idea of being in a group, claiming to be a lone-wolf, but here he was.

"What?" She was too stunned to form any other sentence.

"Yeah. You all seem like a solid group. I want in." He looked around at her alliance and smirked. His eyes locked on Clarke's again, a challenge in them. "Unless you're taking back your offer?"

Before Clarke could even answer, Monty was stepping up beside her. "We aren't taking back our offer," he said quickly. He glanced over at Raven, his expression pointed and stern. "Seriously. We could use him."

"Thank you, Green." Murphy looked even more smug, if that was possible.

"We all agreed to this," Monty reminded everyone. Clarke remembered that they all discussed and agreed to asking Murphy to join their alliance during training. Even Raven had agreed for him joining.

While he had jagged edges, Clarke reminded herself that he had some traits that she liked. He was good with knife throwing and he had brutal honesty. Both would be useful to have in the arena. She wanted someone to tell her when her ideas were stupid, even when her original allies weren't saying anything.

"His score was decently high," Lincoln reminded everyone. After a moment of studying him, he nodded. He didn't look too happy to be agreeing, but logic seemed to have won. "I agree with Monty. Plus, as I said, there is strength in numbers."

"I agree with Lincoln," Charlotte automatically said.

The group turned to Raven, who was still glaring. After a long moment, she let out a tired sigh and uncrossed her arms. She looked grim.

"I did agree then, and I still agree now. There is strength in numbers." She eyed Murphy wearily. "I guess we can bury the hatchet, right?"

"I knew you'd love me eventually," Murphy teased as she stepped closer to the group. Raven glared and took a threatening step forwards.

"Just because I agreed doesn't mean I'm happy about it," she snapped. "Keep your distance."

"Hey, I don't plan on getting cozy. Just need to survive." Clarke stepped to the side to make room for him in their huddle. He stood in-between her and Raven, much to her displeasure. "And after your scores, I think it's in my best interest to take you up on that offer."

"Gross." Raven didn't look too impressed that the only reason for him joining their alliance was because of their training scores. Clarke wasn't too surprised by his comment. And, really, could she blame him for noticing an opportunity and taking it? "I can't believe we offered a spot to you," she snapped. He seemed to smile wider at that.

"You know, it's _really_ hard to take you seriously when you look like that," Murphy said, his face breaking into a smile. Raven grew even more angry, her hands turning into fists at her sides.

"You know what, _John,_ you're just a little cockroach." He laughed at her comment.

"Hey. Let's be kind," Clarke insisted. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together from here on out. We need each other to survive." She looked at each of their faces, trying to emphasize her point. "If we are at each other's throats, how long do you think we'll survive? We have to have each other's backs. From here on out, we leave behind any previous disagreements. Got it?" She looked at Murphy and Raven.

"Got it." Raven smiled weakly at her. "Just not too fond of cockroaches." Murphy let out a loud laugh at that.

"You're cute, Reyes, but you'll have to try a lot harder than that to offend me."

"But you're right, Clarke," she said, pointedly ignoring Murphy's comment. "I'll drop it because I'm mature. We need all of us working together to survive."

"Thank you," she said truthfully. Clarke really didn't want their group dynamic to be thrown off and jeopardized with their new addition. She knew it was risky adding someone to the group so late, but it was their best option. She turned to their new addition. "And, you, Murphy? Do you understand?" He waved his hand dismissively.

"Yeah. Got it. Work together. Sunshine and rainbows." Clarke snorted at his answer. Raven didn't look too impressed.

"Good." Clarke glanced at Monty and Lincoln. They both looked apprehensive, but not nearly as upset as Raven did. She had to trust Raven and Murphy would work out their issues. While she felt bad at upsetting Raven, it was in all of their best interests to let him into the alliance.

"We'll just have to work you into the plan for tomorrow," Lincoln pointed out.

"He's not staying with me," Raven quickly said. Clarke gave her a look and she sighed, instantly realizing her mistake. "You're right. My bad. It's just a kneejerk response."

"I was actually going to suggest he run with Clarke and I. Like I said, he was decent at anything he got his hands on during training." Murphy looked impressed with Monty's assessment. "When we're out there, who knows what weapons we'll get. We need to be prepared to use anything we can."

"Good plan," Lincoln agreed. Clarke nodded and turned to Murphy.

"Tomorrow, you'll head towards Monty or I – whoever is closer. We'll be headed into the bloodbath to get some supplies. We'll meet the others later." He nodded his head. Clarke was happy that he seemed to be someone to go with whatever everyone else was doing.

"Gotcha."

"After that, we just plan to-" He held up his hand, interrupting her.

"Sorry to interrupt, but do we have beef with the Careers?" he asked. Clarke's heart jumped into her throat. _Yes_. They did. More correctly; _she_ did.

"Yeah. Why?" she asked, fear creeping up on her. She could already imagine Ontari or Cage doing something terrible, like spreading rumors about her alliance that Murphy caught wind of.

"One of them keeps staring at us." Clarke groaned. Great, now they were threatening her from a distance. He gestured with his head in the direction of the Career. Clarke peeked around Lincoln to see who it was.

Her heart jumped in her chest for an entirely different reason.

 _It was Bellamy._

Clarke let out a smile, her heart fluttering in her chest. Bellamy caught her eye and returned the smile. _Gods, he looked good._ He was dressed in a solid black suit that was sure to steal the breaths of everyone in the audience. His hair was left curly, with loose tendrils falling across his forehead.

"Oh. No, that's just the Blakes," Raven said dismissively, sucking Clarke back into the conversation. "They're in love with Clarke." Clarke choked and spun around to face her.

"Raven!" she complained. "He's new here. He doesn't know you're joking." Raven looked coy.

"Okay. Fine. _The male_ is just in love with Clarke."

"Raven."

"I'm just teasing you," Raven poked her shoulder. Murphy still looked confused, so Raven turned to him. "They're close with Clarke."

Even thought Clarke externally rolled her eyes at her antics, she couldn't ignore the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Raven thought they were close? Well, it wasn't a lie. She had opened up to him more than anyone else in the past year. She trusted him more than anyone in the Capitol.

It was just surprising that her group had seemed to pick up on her fondness towards the Blakes. She wasn't as good as hiding things as she thought she was.

Murphy cocked an eyebrow. " _And_? They're still Careers, aren't they? Like… the worst kind too, right? District 2?" Raven turned to Clarke in exasperation and gestured at him.

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with the cockroach." Murphy looked pleased. The exact opposite could be said for Clarke.

"They're good people," Clarke said again. "If you don't like them, that's fine. You don't have to and I don't expect you to. But I trust them. For myself." Raven stared at her for a long moment before nodding.

"Yeah. You're right." She smiled teasingly. "Just don't invite them to the alliance. We have too many snakes in here already." Raven sent Murphy a look to know she was joking. The group laughed lightly at Raven's light banter.

Clarke didn't want to break it to her that she did, in fact, invite them to the alliance. The only reason they weren't standing with them at that moment was because they had turned it down.

She glanced across the room to look at Bellamy and Octavia. They were deep in conversation, neither of them were glancing her way. Bellamy looked agitated, while Octavia looked exhausted. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder to look at something in the distance and she whispered something to him. Both of their faces fell back to stone, completely composed.

Clarke glanced in the direction of where Octavia had looked. She felt her heart drop. _It was the Career pack._

She didn't have too much time to contemplate it. As soon as she had looked at Ontari, the buzzer rang, signaling that the interviews were about to start. That was probably for the best. She didn't want to be distracted for the interview. Ontari should've been the last thing on her mind.

"Good luck," Clarke told her group. "I'll see everyone tomorrow."

Those words hung over them heavily. The next time they would see each other, they would be in the arena. They would be in a different world, fighting for their lives.

 _This was it._ A goodbye.

Clarke felt sick. The bloodbath was known for being just that – a bloodbath. Too many people went to the cornucopia to get weapons. Barely any of them survived. She wasn't sure how her group would fare during that first day. If anything, they could all die tomorrow.

Another sinking feeling hit her.

 _One of them could die_. They were splitting up. Half of them would hide while the other half would fight. There was a high chance that they wouldn't reunite. There was a high chance that her group – Monty, Murphy and herself – wouldn't return to the others.

 _This very well might be a final goodbye._

It seemed that her group was realizing the same things. Their smiles fell and the joy got sucked from the air. Murphy looked awkward at the sudden mood change.

 _He didn't get it._ She had spent every moment of the last week with Raven, Monty, Charlotte, and Lincoln. This might have been the last conversation they ever had. This might have been the last time they were all together.

Suddenly, the situation became all too real.

"See you tomorrow," Raven echoed. She leaned forward and pulled Clarke into a tight hug. She returned it without question and had to fight back tears. Somehow, Raven had quickly become one of her best friends. She didn't want to lose her.

The sad reality was that she would have to lose her eventually. Only one of them had the opportunity to survive.

"Good luck," Clarke told her again. _Good luck tomorrow. Please survive._

"Be safe," Raven told her. "We will see each other tomorrow." Neither of them wanted to talk about the chance of that not being true. It was a promise for another day; a promise that Clarke gladly took.

While Raven went to say good luck to Lincoln, Monty turned to her. "It'll be fine," she assured him. He smiled slightly.

"I should be saying that to you. You look freaked out."

He pulled her into a tight embrace. She didn't hesitate with him either. He was one of her friends too. She cared about him and she didn't want to see him get hurt. They would both be rushing into the bloodbath tomorrow. _Would she get another chance to see him after this?_

They broke away and Clarke turned to Lincoln.

"Good luck tomorrow. Stay sharp," Lincoln said. Before she could respond, Lincoln was already moving towards her for a hug. Clarke let out a brief chuckle and moved to meet him. "Just in case of… you know…" _Just in case we don't see each other again._ "Thank you for letting me in this alliance, Clarke. I'm glad I get to spend what could be my last days with people like you."

"I'm glad you wanted to join. We're lucky to have you." She pulled away from the hug. "Thank _you,_ Lincoln." _For training us. For taking care of Charlotte. For accepting me first._ "You're a really great guy."

He nodded. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

Charlotte was standing beside Lincoln, and as he turned to talk to Monty and Raven, she stepped up to take his position. The young girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Just seeing her so panicked made tears spring to Clarke's eyes.

"It'll be okay, Charlotte," Clarke promised. She pulled the young girl into her arms. "It'll be okay. Stick to the plan. Improvise when you need to. And everything will work okay." The young girl nodded against her shoulder. Clarke could feel tears hit her neck. "Hey," she cooed and pulled back. She sent her a warm smile. "Don't cry. It'll be okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"And if I don't?" Her voice cracked with emotion. Clarke smiled again, trying to reassure the girl. All she wanted to do was join Charlotte in crying. _Goodbyes were the hardest._ She never expected saying goodbye to her group to be this tough. She never expected to view them as friends.

"You will." She didn't know if she could promise the girl, but she felt like she had to. She had to stay strong for now; she had to stay strong for the interviews and for the arena. If her promise was broken, she would be in the arena and hopefully far away from the fight at that point.

"Come on, Char, we got to get in line." Lincoln waved her over. She pulled away from Clarke with one last smile, leaving Clarke and Murphy standing awkwardly. She wondered why he hadn't left yet. Almost like he knew what she was thinking, he held up his hands.

"This is my spot in line," he defended himself.

"Right." Murphy was from District 5 after all, only one spot in front of her. Of course he wouldn't have left yet.

"You ready?" Wells slipped up beside her. His face fell when he seen Murphy standing beside her. "Oh."

"Well, if it isn't the Mayor of the Games himself," Murphy sneered. He turned to Clarke, an annoyed expression on his face. "Thanks, princess. I hope we survive long enough for me to see you tomorrow." Of course, Murphy would be the guy to dampen a goodbye.

With those words, Murphy left Clarke and Wells in line.

"What was he saying thanks for?" Wells questioned lightly as he adjusted his jacket. Clarke gave him a tired look.

"Don't worry, it doesn't involve you." She adjusted her dress as she spoke. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Ontari leave the hallway, having just been called up to start her interview. Clarke was hit with a wave of nausea. _This was happening._

"I'm not worried about me," he said. Wells turned to face her, his expression concerned. "I'm worried about you."

"Well, don't be." She looked him dead in the eyes. "I can handle myself."

"I never said you couldn't. That doesn't mean I can't worry for you though." Clarke was still annoyed with him over everything he did in the Capitol, and she was still angry for what part he played in her dad's assassination, but a part of her yearned for him. A part of her yearned for his friendship. She wanted to go back to simpler times, to when they were friends. It was impossible, but _she wanted it._

This was the last moments they would get together. The realization hit Clarke harder than she thought it would. They would both be heading into the arena tomorrow and they wouldn't speak to each other ever again.

The thought made her want to cry, for some strange reason. Even though he ruined her life, there would always be that part of her that cared about him. She grew up beside him. She loved him like he was her brother.

 _And they would never see each other again._

The crowd cheered, which broke her from her thoughts. Ontari was already walking off the stage and Roan was walking on. She wasn't surprised by the reaction of the crowd. They were always suckers for the Careers. Ontari was one of the coldest and unfriendly person that she knew, yet the crowd seemed to love her.

She turned to Wells again, a different look on her face. Wells looked surprised by the tenderness she had.

"I'm sorry it turned out like this," Clarke said. It was the truth. Losing him along with her father was _so_ hard. She spent months wishing that he hadn't betrayed her. She spent months wishing that they were still friends. "I always envisioned is growing up together and staying friends for as long as we lived." Wells smiled softly at her.

It felt like old times. In that moment, with them smiling at each other, it felt like they were back home. _In the classroom, at the park, in their homes – it didn't matter._ It was _them;_ the ease and connection between the two of them.

"Yeah. Me too." He blew out a puff of air and he shifted uneasily. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "I'm sorry too. For everything. For your dad. _For you_." He kept it vague, but she knew exactly what he was meaning.

 _He was sorry for the part he played in her father's death. He was sorry he got her locked up. He was sorry his actions inevitably sent her to the Games._

"I know." She gave him a weak smile.

It still felt nearly impossible to forgive him. She couldn't forgive him. Everything was too soon, her pain was still too fresh. If they had more time, maybe she could learn to forgive him for what he did. If they had more time, maybe they could've become friends again. It never would have been like it was, but there was that possibility for something.

 _A possibility that ended the moment she was reaped. A possibility that ended the moment he volunteered._

"Listen, Clarke, I want to talk to you about it," Wells said suddenly. "Tell you why. Tell you-" She shook her head, pain rising up in her.

"No. I can't." She looked at him, pained. "I can't, Wells. Not right before the Games. We'll be in the arena tomorrow. I can't get distracted." He looked disappointed.

"I want to tell you before we die." She looked at him for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. They were broken apart when the crowd cheered loudly. She turned back to the monitor, which showed Roan walking off stage. Coming up right behind him was Octavia.

She was wearing a black dress that swept the floor as she walked. Her hair was braided down her back and her make-up was heavily done. Clarke was beginning to get used to the fact that when in the Capitol, make-up would always be done darkly.

In short, she looked striking.

Clarke glanced towards Bellamy at the front of the line. His arms were crossed and his face was made of stone. He looked completely unfazed by her on stage, but she knew differently. She could see that he looked tense and worried. His eyes were glued to the screen and his posture was stiff.

He was terrified.

She quickly shrugged off her want to go to him. _They weren't allies. He could handle this on his own._ She knew he didn't _need_ her, but she wanted to be there for him.

Gods, who was she turning into?

"Can I at least give you a letter?" Wells asked suddenly. Clarke's eyes snapped back to his. "You don't have to read it if you don't want to an- and you can pick when you read it, too. But I want you to have the option to know the truth. I want you to have the option to know why I did what I did."

Clarke looked at him for a long moment. He seemed desperate to tell her his explanation. Even though she didn't think it would change anything, she couldn't deny the fact that she was interested in hearing it too. She wanted to know why he betrayed her, even if it hurt her. The mystery of it all sometimes made her think of worse explanations than what she hoped the truth was.

She nodded her head. "Okay." Wells instantly relaxed, a look of joy lifting his face. "But keep it vague. A letter could fall into the wrong hands." He nodded his head.

"I know. I won't." He smiled widely at her. "Thank you, Clarke." She nodded stiffly. She wasn't too sure if it was the right choice to make, but it didn't really matter. She could always decide not to read his letter. At least this way, she could make that choice for herself.

She turned back to the screen, hoping to catch a little bit of Octavia's interview.

The girl was sitting across from the interviewer, her face as cold as ice. She truly looked like a Career in that moment, not like the girl she had come to know over the last week. This girl was the warrior she was trained to be; hard, cold, distant, and frightening. This was the girl who volunteered for the Games, the girl who earned her spot at the academy. It was amazing to see how different she held herself now that she was playing the Games and not bantering with Bellamy or teasing her.

"How do you feel about competing in the same Games as your brother?" Clarke couldn't even see Octavia become rattled, but she knew she would by that question. She knew how close she was with her brother. She knew that she was broken that he volunteered to die for her.

"Fine," she responded easily. "We grew up training together, so we are a good team. We know each other in battle better than anyone could. No matter how long you have trained individually, it doesn't compare to a partnership like we have."

Clarke knew that was a shot at the Careers. She was saying that her and Bellamy were talented alone, but were even more dangerous together. Clarke realized hadn't seen them fighting alongside each other before, only ever alone. She knew both Octavia and Bellamy were immensely talented. She couldn't begin to imagine how dangerous they were together.

"But how do you feel knowing that only one of you can go home?" The audience let out little cooing noises. Clarke rolled her eyes. _Like they even cared._ Cage made a retching noise from further up the line.

"We both volunteered for this. We both knew what we were getting into," she pointed out. "We knew that going in together would be better than alone. We have better chances together. That's why we volunteered for the same year. Because we know, this way, one of us will win."

Clarke knew that was a lie, but nothing in Octavia's answer hinted to that. Octavia had been forced to volunteer against her will and Bellamy had volunteered to protect her. They didn't _want_ to be here. It wasn't part of their plan. Sure, they had a better chance together, but they weren't ready for the other to die.

Clarke's heart broke for them.

She couldn't imagine what pain they would be in once one of them dies. Unless they both went out together at the same time, one would have to live without the other, even for a brief moment.

She knew Bellamy well. She knew that Octavia was his whole world. If he had to watch Octavia die, she didn't know what he would do.

She wanted to cry for him at just the thought. _He had raised his sister_. He had given up everything for her. He was willing to give his life. What if he had to survive without her? She knew from personal experience that sometimes being the one who survived was a worse fate than death.

She could already imagine him during the Games. Without something to fight for, what would he do? Would he become the cold hearted killer he was trained to be? Would he attack other tributes, no longer having a soul to lose? She didn't think so. She could only imagine him in heartbreak. She could imagine he would be in pain for the whole time. She didn't know if he would try to win if he lost his sister, or if he planned to die in the Games regardless of what happened. All she knew was losing Octavia would destroy him.

"Thank you, Octavia." The interviewer turned to the audience, signaling that the interview was already over. Clarke was disappointed that she missed most of it. "Octavia Blake, everyone!" She got up from her seat and left the stage, never stopping to look out at the audience. Her distance only seemed to make them more wild for her. "Now, let's hear from the other Blake! Bellamy!"

* * *

 **Originally this chapter and the next chapter was one mega-chapter, but I split them pretty early on. Somehow, 20k in one chapter seems a little long for the format of this fic! The remaining interviews (lol all of them) will be in the next chapter.**

 _ **Re: Bellarke Fanwork Awards (bfwa on Tumblr).** As I mentioned in my previous update, I have been nominated for the BFWA! I am so touched and amazed that I am in the final round! _Simple Pleasures _is in the running for **Best Angst WIP** and another one of my fics called _I Promise _is in the running for **Best Fluff Drabble**. Voting is held on their Tumblr (bfwa)! You don't need a Tumblr account to vote (just an ffnet username), and voting only takes a few minutes. _(It has come to my attention that their blog is not showing the link for voting. My blog "pawprinterfanfic" has a post that will! If you plan to vote, you can find the details through my blog!)

 _If you've enjoyed reading this fic, feel free to go vote! Wouldn't it be super cool (and unbelievably amazing) if this fic managed to win the category? Like… what? The fact that is even a possibility blows my mind. I've loved writing this fic (and I'm sure all of you know how passionate I am about this fic) so the fact I've even managed to reach the final round is astounding._

 ** _The final round of voting is open now and will close on December 5th at 11:59pm EST. If you've enjoyed reading this fic, I would be so appreciative if you went and voted! _**

_Also, even if you don't vote for me, go vote! This is a fantastic way to support your favourite Bellarke fanfics, Bellarke creators, and the Bellarke fandom in general!_

 **Also, a HUGE thank you to anyone who has voted so far! I'm still so amazed I am in the final round of these wonderful fan-run awards.**

 **See you in a few weeks with an update!**

 **Paw**


	17. Chapter 17: Under the Lights

**Sorry that there was such a long period with no updates! I've put a longer explanation at the bottom, but things should be getting on track once again. We're heading into some of the more interesting chapters now, in my opinion… The arena!**

 **Thank you all for being so patient for this update. This particular update is dedicated to that wonderful anon on my Tumblr, who has been so supportive over this fic. Thank you for sending me that ask today, because that was the best motivation in the world to get me editing and updating!**

 **Warning: coarse language**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Under the Lights**

* * *

As soon as he heard his name, he changed into a different person. Clarke watched as Bellamy unfroze, square his shoulders, clench his jaw, and leave the waiting area, completely transforming himself from a worried brother into a hardened warrior.

She sucked in a breath and ran her thumb over the seam of her dress, trying to keep herself calm. The truth was that she was terrified for Bellamy. She knew, logically, it didn't make sense. He had trained for years for the Games – which also included training for the interview portion. She knew that he could do this.

 _But it didn't stop her from worrying._

It only took seconds for him to appear on the monitor from when he left the room that they stood in. As soon as she could see him on the cameras, she tensed up more, if that was possible.

"Let's welcome our other favourite Blake – Bellamy!" Clarke almost laughed at the host's comments. _They only knew two Blakes_. How could there be favourites? Who were they favourited over? She didn't understand the Capitol.

Bellamy walked into stage and waved at the crowd. She could _feel_ the thunderous applause in her chest. It felt similar to when she was back home and she would be with her dad while he worked. The rumble of the trains would vibrate up her body and through the air. _The crowd loved him._ She didn't have to see their faces to know – she could feel it with her body.

Clarke peeled her eyes away from the screen long enough to glance around the room. Her eyes landed on the front of the line, where Raven and Monty stood. They clearly weren't paying attention to the screens; instead, they were whispering to each other. Raven reached forward and tugged on the end of Monty's jacket, straightening it out.

Just behind them, something else caught her eyes. She couldn't help but smirk slightly at the dirty look Cage gave Luna. She pressed her lips tightly together and turned back to the screen hanging. Cage stiffly crossed his arms and grimaced as he turned to the screen. Jealousy was rolling off of him in waves

"Bellamy. Bellamy. Sit." The host gestured to the only other chair on the stage.

Bellamy moved to sit where Octavia had only moments before. He looked just like his sister did – cold, distant, reserved, and powerful. He was dressed like her too, in a complete black suit. This was the second time she had seen him wearing black eyeliner, but the effect was just like the first. _He was striking_. So much so that she could feel her breath get stolen. She tried to calm her racing heart.

She honestly couldn't tell if she was nervous for herself, nervous for him, or something completely different. She didn't want to think too much about it. _It wasn't the time._

He shook the interviewer's hand and leaned back into the chair, as if he _belonged_ on stage, on display for the crowd. He looked at home with all of the cameras on him, like he was born to be a star the Games were making him to be. He looked calm, collected, and poised. He truly reminded Clarke of a depiction of a Greek ruler.

 _Dangerous. Gorgeous. Powerful._

She knew him, though. She knew this was just an act. He told her numerous times how uncomfortable he was by the cameras and the cheers and constantly being watched. He hated living in a box, where everyone expected him to be a certain way. _He wanted to be free of all of that,_ just like her.

"So, Bellamy, we just spoke with your sister." He nodded his head, his lips pressed firmly together. She could see the muscles in his jaw ripping as he clenched his teeth. She noticed that he did that often whenever they would mention Octavia. "She told me that you two work well together. Is that so?"

 _Of course,_ Clarke wanted to say. _What a stupid question._

"We grew up together at the academy. We trained together our whole lives. Yes, we work very well together." The interviewer nodded as if that was new information.

"And she told me that she's not worried about competing against you." Bellamy nodded again, and his jaw muscles twitched. "What about you with her? She did get a higher score than you, after all." The crowed let out tiny gasps, as if Bellamy would've been offended by the interviewer's words. If anything, Bellamy looked proud with the prospect that she scored higher than him.

"Of course she got a higher score than me; have you seen her?" he asked, a small smirk on his lips. Clarke couldn't help but smile at his words. Even when he was acting as a hardened Career, he couldn't pretend he didn't care about his sister. "She's terrifying, she's trained so well. She has more talent in her one finger than I do in my whole body." The crowd laughed at that and the interviewer tisked.

"Now, I wouldn't say that. You did get a 10, one of the top scores this year!" The crowd cheered. Bellamy didn't look phased by the cheering. "How are you planning on fighting your sister in these Games?"

Clarke felt sick by the question. Didn't they know Bellamy at all? Didn't they see how he interacted with Octavia throughout this whole week? He wasn't going to be fighting her. _Why would they ask something like that?_

Bellamy shook his head, his lips pulling back into a frown. "I'm not. We're a team in these Games, no matter what. I wouldn't fight against her in any circumstance." His expression softened slightly. "I'm her big brother. I've spent my whole life training beside her and protecting her – its not like she ever needed protecting, but I was there. We grew up doing everything together; she's my best friend. I don't think I could ever harm her on purpose."

Clarke's heart felt lighter with his words and she could feel butterflies in her stomach. _Gods, Bellamy was sweet._ Clarke could hear a few coos in the crowd and she smiled. He had obviously touched more than just her with his care for his sister.

 _There was her Bellamy._

She froze at her own thoughts. A jolt of adrenaline ran through her.

 _Her?_

She tried to erase that thought from her mind. _He wasn't her Bellamy. He wasn't even her friend. He was just a random guy – a random tribute._ She just thought that because she was frazzled. Yeah. That was it. No other reason.

"I see," the host brought her attention back to the interview. She didn't want to miss one second of it. "You know, not many big brothers volunteer to fight alongside a little sister. You must be a very special young man."

"We wanted to do this together." _Lie_. She knew it was a lie. If their conversation on the roof the previous night was anything to go by, he didn't want to do this beside her. The only reason they were in the Games was because Octavia was forced to volunteer and Bellamy refused to let her do it on her own. "We trained for this. I'll protect her, just as she'll protect me. It's what we've trained to do."

His sentiments were doing well with the crowd, based on the amount of awing she could hear. She could see Cage rolling his eyes with obvious distain. Unlike last time, her heart felt heavy with his words. She knew that he would do anything to protect her and the thought of what was to come weighed her down.

"That's good. Good to hear." The interviewer looked stumped by Bellamy's answers. Clarke would've bet anything that he was hoping for something more dramatic. It was disgusting. He was disappointed by Bellamy's love for his sister? He was disappointed that he didn't want to fight her, or wasn't secretly plotting to kill her? _It was disturbing_. Clarke hated the Capitol. "We've never seen you leave your sister's side. Have you two always been like that? Did you have any time for anything else?"

"We grew up together. We've spent a lot of time together." Bellamy repeated his words from before, his brows furrowed. "We had time for other things, like training, of course. We did a lot of training in the academies."

The interviewer laughed heartily, eliciting Bellamy to looked even more confused. "I meant do you have someone special back at home? Someone you're fighting for? Any friends?" After a dramatic pause, a thin smile spread over the host's face. "A girlfriend?"

Bellamy's presence shifted instantly on stage. His hardened expression softened and a soft smile graced his lips. "Yeah, of course," he said simply. "O and I grew up together, but we had our friends. It was hard to say goodbye to everyone back home."

Clarke felt her heart drop with his answer. She never even considered the fact that Bellamy might've had a girlfriend. She felt stupid, assuming that he had nobody at home that he loved. What if she was falling for him, only to realize he was taken by someone else?

With those thoughts, she felt even stupider.

 _She wasn't falling for him_. No way. No. She wouldn't allow herself to be opening up for him, not in that sense. Being friends? Sure, she was okay with that. Being vulnerable with him was easy. _But anything more?_ No, she couldn't.

Plus, even if she was, what would it matter? It's not like she would see him ever again anyways. They were headed to the arena tomorrow. They were both going to die within the next two weeks. Even if she _was_ falling for him, it made no difference if he had a girlfriend or not. She couldn't ever have anything more than a simple crush. Their situation made sure of that.

"But coming to the Games was a sort of blessing," Bellamy continued. "I've gotten to talk to people from all across our country. So, while it was hard to say goodbye to my friends at home, my eyes were opened so much in my short time in the Capitol." She could see a mask slipping back over him. He was backing away from the Bellamy that she knew – vulnerable and open – and shifting towards that constructed persona she had witnessed too many times. _The Career. The tribute._ "Gods, I wish my time here was longer – there's so much to see and so much to do. It's an amazing city." Clarke knew he was playing it up for the sponsors. Still, his words seemed to impact her. She shifted uncomfortably and swallowed thickly. Hearing him talking so highly about a place that she hated so much was unsettling. "And, without the Games, I wouldn't have met people from other districts. I was so absorbed with District 2 that I never got to meet people from across the country."

"So, you're thankful for the Games?" Bellamy nodded his head.

"Definitely." _He was lying._ She knew him. She knew he was far from thankful for the Games. They had talked about how both of them hated the Capitol; she hated them for keeping District 13's survival a secret, while he hated the greed and the disparity among people. "The Games introduced me to some really great people – people I never would've met without them."

"Anyone in particular that you're thankful to meet?" Bellamy cocked his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. He looked confused and off-guard.

"Everyone, really."

The interviewer raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "Well, it seemed that you grew close to one tribute in particular." Clarke's heart stopped and she could feel her hands begin to sweat. She could feel her heart racing. "After all, you did train her."

She wanted to disappear into the darkness with those words. She knew what was coming – she wasn't naive. She knew she was the only other tribute Bellamy had trained. _Of course,_ they would want to talk about that with him. It was a new story; it was something fresh.

That's all they were to the Capitol. _A story._ They weren't kids, they weren't even human. They were entertainment for a fraction of their population and a deadly reminder to the rest.

Her felt her heart completely stop as the camera focused on Bellamy's face. He looked shaken. "Clarke," Bellamy said. His face softened. The crowd let out a few mumbles at his answer, like they were surprised that they even knew each other.

Clarke felt eyes turn towards her in the waiting area. She didn't dare show how this was effecting her. She didn't dare show any signs that her heart was racing. She tried her best to tune out all of the eyes and all of the mumbles.

"That's right," the interviewer said excitedly. "Clarke Griffin – the tribute from District 6. You helped her with fighting skills, am I right?"

"Yes."

"Well, let me say, you two were a force to be reckoned with up there. I could not believe what I was watching! You managed to pass on some of your skills within a few hours of meeting her!"

"Clarke is really talented," Bellamy praised. "She's dedicated to doing everything she can to prepare for the arena. She's a fighter and is willing to do whatever it takes to keep her and her allies safe. I'm sure you've seen some of the fire she has inside of her when watching at home, but in person… It's different. Her passion and her ferocity burns so bright when you're with her in person."

"You speak highly of her," the host said. "Did you spend a lot of time with her?"

"I mean, you all seen us," he pointed out. "I helped her that first day with swords, sure, but I don't want to pretend she didn't help me just as much the following day. She's really knowledgeable about plants and other survival skills that I wasn't, and she was nice enough to help me out with that." Bellamy thought for a second before continuing. "I'm lucky to have had the chance to know her and to be able to learn from her. Her allies are lucky to have her."

The interviewer raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. "Are you not her ally?"

Bellamy tried to look nonchalant about his question, but Clarke could see through it. They hadn't talked about their friendship _or whatever it was_ in a long time. The last time they even discussed being allies, they had just met. It felt like a life time ago.

Did he want to be allies? She doubted it, based off his answer from earlier. He didn't want to do anything to put Octavia in danger, and being with a large group of people he didn't really know was exactly that. Her alliance was a risk for him – she knew that. She understood.

"No. I'm not Clarke's ally," he said. "I came here for my sister, and that's who I plan to follow through with." The crowd let out a few disappointing sounds. "Even though I'm not her ally, I can recognize that she's great. She's a fighter and a strong tribute. Her team is lucky, and I am lucky to have met her and to have trained beside her." He smirked. "Did you see my plant identification skills before she helped me out? Pathetic, I know." She could see him swallow thickly. "She's one of the tributes that I am lucky to have met. All thanks to the Games and to the Capitol."

"Well, if you were that good at fighting alongside a stranger, I can't wait until we can see you in action with your sister." The interviewer stood up and Bellamy followed, signaling the end of his interview. Clarke could feel some of the tension bleed from her body. "Bellamy Blake, everyone!" Thunderous applause broke out.

Finally, Clarke removed her gaze from the screen. She could sense several pairs of eyes on her. Her eyes landed on Murphy, who was standing a few paces in front of her.

"Damn, Griffin, Raven wasn't lying," Murphy teased. Clarke rolled her eyes and shook her head, a smile on her face. She remembered Raven's words from earlier; that she was close with the Blakes.

 _She had to look unfazed by this_. She couldn't let anyone know that she was impacted by anything Bellamy said about her. _Plus, it was all for show_. Nothing he said in front of the cameras mattered. It didn't matter. It was all an act.

Her eyes flicked to Cage's. He was staring at her intently, his eyes darker and more intense than she had seen before. Her heart lurched at the sight of him and her spine prickled. She quickly looked away, turning back to the television. She was thankful that Raven was already walking up – she was the perfect distraction.

Even though Raven knew she felt ridiculous, she was smiling widely and waving at the crowd as she got up on stage, easily slipping into her persona that she had constructed. It was baffling for Clarke to watch all of these people the she knew become someone she didn't by just being in front of a camera. The Capitol citizens seemed to go crazy for her outfit – there were just as many cheers for her as there was for Bellamy, which was saying something, considering he was a Career and she was not.

"Don't talk about the Blake while you're being interviewed," Wells hissed before Raven could even start talking. Before she could argue against him, he continued. "Don't let them make your time to focus on yourself all about him. This is _your_ interview, _not_ _his_. Everyone already loves him. Make them love you."

She was stunned into silence. _He was right_. If she was going off of his interview, they were going to try to get her to talk mostly about Bellamy. _She had so much more to say_. She was more than just her friendship with him. She was more than just someone he helped train. She wouldn't be reduced to being known as the tribute Bellamy Blake trained.

 _She was Clarke Freaking Griffin._

She had so many more things she needed to talk about, like her alliance pack and her time in lock-up. She needed to appeal to sponsors; not attract the eyes of Capitol citizens. Because when it came down to it, sponsors would not care if she was friends with Bellamy Blake or not. If they liked Bellamy, they would give money to him, not her. She had to make a name for herself, _no matter what the interviewer pushed_.

"You're right," Clarke said.

"Dodge questions about him. Give them a little info to appease them, but focus on you." He leaned away from her. Clarke couldn't help but smile slightly at him. Maybe it wasn't always a bad thing to have someone watching out for her.

"And what do you plan to do if you win the Games?" the interviewer asked. Raven thought for a second.

"I plan to go home. I'm currently just about becoming a mechanical engineer, so I would love to finish that. Then I don't know. I always wanted to work on making Panem a better place – a more efficient place." She thought for a second longer. "I would love to give my knowledge to the Capitol. If I win, maybe I'll come back here. Help build something that is needed."

Clarke knew she was playing it up for the Capitol. _All of the tributes did that._ If they promised to make their lives better, sponsors were more inclined to give.

"And what about family? Any family that you want to get back home to?"

"Yeah. My boyfriend." A warm smile came over her face and the crowd awed. Clarke was shocked that she had a boyfriend. She didn't know anything about Raven. "He's the closest thing I have to family. He's always been there for me, for as long as I remember. I want to get back to him."

"What's his name?"

"Finn." She smiled brighter. "Yeah. I want to get back home to Finn."

"He must be a very lucky man, to have someone as brilliant and as kind as you are." She didn't respond. Once again, the interviewer stood up, signaling that it was over. "Raven Reyes!"

The crowed cheered. Clarke felt shocked as Raven walked off the stage. She didn't know Raven had a boyfriend back at her home district. _She didn't know Bellamy had friends and a potential girlfriend he left in District 2, either._ It hit her that she really didn't know too much about her allies and friends. She hoped she would get the chance to change that while they were in the arena.

 _As for Bellamy,_ she tried to keep him off of her mind. She hoped that his promise from the other day would come true, that he would be seeing her sometime today.

Monty was up next. The interviewer asked him the same general questions that he asked Raven moments before. _Who are you fighting for? Who do you want to get back to?_

"My family," Monty said. "My mom and dad are waiting for me back home."

"No sisters? Brothers?"

"Not biological," Monty said. "But Jasper is as close to me as any biological brother of mine would've been." He softened as he talked about his friend. "We've known each other for years. We've grown up together. Everything I did, he was right there beside me."

"Except for going to the Games," the host pointed out jokingly. While the crowed loved his joke, Clarke could see something inside Monty flicker. Even she felt disgusted that the host would make a joke like that.

"True. But I have Raven, and she's my friend, too," Monty pointed out, trying to keep his interview on track. "I've known her for years. We grew up together, we went to school together. It's nice having someone here that I already knew that I could trust. But I know I can trust a lot more people here, too. My alliance are my friends and I trust them."

Clarke glanced back at District 7. Lincoln nodded at her, a small smile on his lips. She nodded back to him. _We're friends. I trust you._

Monty was right. It was nice having people around her that she could trust.

"I'm fighting for my family, but I'm fighting for myself too, too. I have more things to do, more places to see, more people to meet. I'm not done living my life."

"I wish you the best. Monty Green!"

Clarke ignored the monitor as Monty left the stage and Luna went on. She didn't want to see the Career pack at all. Just seeing their faces reminded her that not everyone here was as kind as her allies. Not everyone here was fighting to get back home. Some people here were fighting for their own victories – they were fighting for money and power.

What surprised Clarke the most about Luna was how kind she seemed. She held herself with that same strength and confidence the other Careers did, but she didn't speak of how great she was or how much she knew she was going to win. Instead, she spoke about her family and her friends back home. She spoke about her passions, like swimming and fishing.

Clarke was intrigued by her. She was a Career, but she was different.

She tried her best to ignore the monitor when Cage was talking. He didn't give anything of substance – all he wanted to talk about was his skills and his score and winning. Every time he opened his mouth, she seemed to be more annoyed by him. Did he have _any_ traits going for him? Or was he just as boring and disturbing as he seemed so far?

The next person to get called up with Murphy's district partner Echo. She scored high as well, which surprised Clarke. It seemed that many tributes for the Games this year had previous training or had skills that were applicable to the Games. Echo spoke mainly about her district and her life at home. She seemed very loyal to District 5 as well as the Capitol. The audience could sense this as well – they loved her.

Right before Echo was done, Clarke could see Murphy shifting uneasily in front of her. Breaking from the line, she closed the distance of a few steps with him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and smirked.

"If you're going to tell me I'm going to do great, save your breath. I already know I'm going to kick ass." Clarke snorted at him and he broke a small smile.

"I'll save my breath, then," she said. "I don't know you very well Murphy, but I know you can be an ass." He laughed loudly. "Try not to be one out there, hey? Show them that you're a _badass_."

"Oh, I'm planning on it," he said cheekily. He smirked at her as Echo was standing to leave the stage. "See you on the other side, huh?"

"See you tomorrow. Good luck."

As Murphy walked out on stage, she felt herself descending into panic. It hit her that it was only his interview and then she would be called up on stage. Only a few minutes to go and then she would be out there, broadcast across the country.

She didn't know if she could do it. Could she talk about her time in lock-up – her time in isolation – without getting too flustered? Could she dodge questions about _why_ she was in lock-up without causing too much suspicion? Could she talk about her allies without making them seem too much like a target for the Careers? Could she curb questions about Bellamy? She knew she was going to be asked about him – no question about it. _Could she do it?_

She hoped that she would be able to look relaxed once she got on stage. She hoped that she wouldn't completely forget how to speak under the lights. She hoped that she could continue her act of being a kind leader – compassionate, hopefully, strong.

 _Hold yourself together,_ she told herself. _You're Clarke freaking Griffin. Sell yourself. Prove to them that_ you're worth it. _Prove to them that your alliance is worth it._

Just as Murphy was standing up from the stage, she felt her stomach turn to lead. Her heart was racing so fast that she could hear the blood rushing through her ears. Her thoughts swam in her head and her vision was blurred around the edges.

 _She was going to get sick._

Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It instantly calmed the storm she felt raging inside of her, bringing her back to the present. It was like she was pulled back to stand on the ground beneath her once again.

She turned to see Wells staring at her, a reassuring look on his face. They had known each other for so long that she wasn't surprised that he could tell she was slipping away.

"You got this."

Those three words settled her enough to focus her mind. He squeezed her shoulder once more before dropping his hand to his side.

He was right. _She had this._ She had a great score. She had a strong group of allies. She had a story to tell. She was Clarke freaking Griffin and she wasn't going to let the Capitol into her head. She wasn't going to get onto that stage and be terrified of messing up.

She nodded and squared her shoulder. She pushed all of her emotions to the side and focused on the story Kane had fed her once again that day.

She was Clarke Griffin. She was from District 6. Her mother was a medic. Her father was an engineer. She was a leader. She was strong. She was confident. She was mindful and calculating. She was warm and friendly. She was a criminal. She had a story to tell and they were going to listen, dammit.

She strode forward as Murphy left the stage, a forced smile on her face. She forced her hand to stop shaking as she made her way into the stage. She couldn't remember the walk from where she stood beside Wells to the stage, but suddenly, she was in front of a large crowed.

The lights were blinding. The audience was deafening. Her heartbeat filled her ears and her palms started to sweat.

She focused on the interviewer in front of her and strode out to meet him. Funnily enough, the only thought running through her head in that moment was _how to walk._ Her mind was so caught up in making sure she didn't slip in her heels that she barely noticed the crowed or the lights of the dozens of cameras.

 _It was just her and the interviewer._

She shook his hand and sat down in her seat. The whole time, she kept the smile on her face and kept a relaxed posture. Her hands were still in front of her, but it was taking a lot of energy to keep them from shaking. Her legs felt weak and she was thankful in that moment to be sitting down.

"Welcome, Clarke. How are you feeling?"

"I'm great, thank you." She felt the words being forced from her mouth. She didn't know how she was forming them – her mind had gone completely blank. It was like the words were tumbling from her mouth without any thoughts.

 _Think. Focus. Own this._

She reigned in her mind, forcing herself to slow down. _Breathe. Think._ She sucked in a deep breath from between her teeth and forced her shoulders to relax.

"We've heard plenty about you tonight," he said. Clarke nodded. "How does that make you feel?"

Clarke didn't know what he was looking for. _It was terrifying_ in the best way possible. "It's a good feeling, knowing I've connected with so many people. It's been great talking with so many. I wish we had more time so I could've talked to more." She hoped she sounded sincere.

"I don't know how you could've talked to more. You have a bigger alliance than the Career pack! Tell me, what inspired you to get so many allies?" _Perfect_. Exactly what she wanted to talk about.

"I wasn't inspired by anything. I got to the Capitol and seen so many talented and amazing other tributes and I just connected with them. It wasn't from any reason in particular, but I clicked with each of them." The words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could really think about them. "You've already met Raven and Monty - they're brilliant and so kind. Murphy is also a great guy. And-"

"What about the Blakes?" The interviewer cut her off completely. She could hear the crowd get excited by his words. She kept a smile on her face. This was exactly what Wells told her they would do. He predicted it easily.

"I was lucky enough to be able to train with the Blakes for a few days," she agreed. "Bellamy and Octavia are both strong competitors, so I am thankful they passed on a few tips to me. They're both really kind and it was great being able to train with them." She hoped her answer satisfied the interviewer and the audience enough.

"And what about them? What about an alliance with Bellamy?" The crowd sent words of encouragement and agreement. Clarke pressed her lips tightly together and tried to calm herself down. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

"We agreed it would be best to go into the arena separate," she said. _Liar_. "I am happy with my alliance. I'm so lucky to be able to be going into the arena with a handful of them. I've spent a lot of time getting to know them and train with them, and I couldn't be more confident in them or their abilities. We all bring something important to the alliance, which is just one reason that makes me really confident in my friends. They're all such strong tributes."

"As are you. You scored a 9 - isn't that amazing?" The crowd cheered. Clarke struggled to keep from squirming from all of the attention. Being under the cameras and lights, in front of millions of people, was daunting. "How did you accomplish it?"

"One is only as strong as their allies," she said. "I have those that I met here in the Capitol to thank for that." She tried taking pages from Bellamy's and Raven's books by complimenting the Capitol. "Everyone I've trained with has helped get me to where I am at right now and I'm just really thankful and proud of that."

"Now, tell me about your family. What will you do if you win?" Clarke internally felt like she could've cried at that question. _This was exactly the question she was hoping for_. Something to tie into her past. She needed this if she was somehow going to bring up her history.

"I was lucky to have really amazing parents. They've taught me a lot, and most of those skills are what I'm using for the Games. My mother is a medic and my father was an engineer. My mom is waiting for me back home, watching the Games. If I win, I'll go back to her."

"And your father?"

"He died last year," she said. She allowed some of her pain to shine through, which was not a hard achievement. Her heart felt heavy every time she mentioned her father. The crowd sympathized with her and let out calls of pain.

Part of her wanted to _scream_ about the fact that her father was murdered. It was tempting, knowing that she was being broadcast live across the country in that moment. Couldn't she just… _say something?_ What was really stopping her from telling the truth right there on stage?

 _Her mother's safety. Her allies. Bellamy._ She knew they were all in danger of being killed for her mistakes. While she was willing to pay whatever price necessary to let Panem know the truth, she was not willing to let her friends pay that same price.

The thoughts of rebilling against the Capitol died instantly. It was a fleeting thought, but one that she had often.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry." The interviewer drew her back in. "So it's been you and your mother for the last year? How did that impact your time at the Games?"

 _Perfect._ An opportunity to talk about what she _needed_ to say.

"I actually wasn't with my mother for the last year." She left space for a dramatic pause, allowing the excitement to grow in the crowed. The interviewer leaned forward.

"Where were you, then?"

"I served time in my district's lock up." She could feel the atmosphere in the room completely shift. The crowd gasped and the interviewer recoiled in horror. Clarke hoped that shock factor worked to her advantage. "I served my time for a crime a committed last year."

"Well, they do say don't judge a book by its cover!" The interviewer's voice was tense and his attempt at lightening the mood fell flat. "Is that how you got such a high score? You're already versed in fighting?"

"I guess you could say that," she agreed. _She was a liar_. In no way did her going to lock-up help her in the Games, and in no way was her crime related to fighting. "Do you mind asking what for?" Clarke smiled.

"Well, that would ruin the mystery, wouldn't it?" she teased. The audience laughed, the tension breaking. Part of Clarke wondered _why_ the crowed or the interviewer seemed so hesitant of her… Wasn't every teenager on stage about to become a murdered? Didn't they worship their Victors? _What was the difference?_ "But I'm just very thankful to be here. Without the Games, I would still be in lock-up."

The interviewer whistled. "It must've been a hefty crime," he commented.

"I'm just very happy I'm here. It's an opportunity I never thought I would have. This could be a fresh start I always wanted. It could be the start of a new life."

"So the Games are a new beginning to you." She nodded and decided she would be playing that up if she had a chance. _A new beginning thanks to the Capitol._ It sounded like she was kissing just enough ass to make it believable. "Well, isn't that beautiful." The audience cheered in agreement. "Well, Clarke, you sure are an interesting lady full of surprises!" He stood up and she followed suit. She could feel the tension leaving her body – her interview was almost over. "Let's hope that this your start to a new beginning. Clarke Griffin, everyone!"

The crowd cheered as she walked off stage. With each step, it felt like the adrenaline was leaving her body more and more. Her legs shook and she was thankful she was getting out of the spotlight.

As soon as she got out of sight of the camera, her face fell and she gasped for air. She stumbled a few steps forward until she was clutching onto the nearest wall. She pressed her hand tightly to her stomach and curled over, taking gasping breaths. Her shoulders heaved and her head spun as she tried to refocus.

Talking about her family, her time in lock-up, and her friends from the Games had been exhausting. Pretending to be someone completely different was torture. She didn't think that it would take so much energy out of her to pretend to be someone she was not. She didn't think it would take so much energy out of her to lie about her hopes from the Games. _Like hell that these Games were actually a second chance for her. Like hell she actually had a chance of winning._

After a minute of being pressed against the wall, she pushed herself off the wall and squared her shoulders.

 _The night wasn't done yet._ She didn't have the luxury to fall apart in the hallway. She didn't have the time to try to stop her world from spinning.

She was a tribute and tomorrow was the arena. She had to stay strong. She had to stay sharp.

Clarke walked further down the tunnel, heading towards the room she knew Kane would be waiting in. Her eyes swept over the five other closed doors as she walked, each with a black number painted on it. Her eyes lingered on the number 2, knowing that the Blakes were both on the other side of that door.

She continued on, determined to catch _some_ of Wells' interview. She wasn't too sure when it had happened, but she felt something different inside of her now. When she thought of him, that hatred that she felt only a week ago wasn't there. She felt… different. She was still angry with him and part of her would always hate the pain she put her through, but it wasn't the same as before.

 _Dying changed things,_ she thought.

As soon as she turned into the room marked with a 6, Kane was moving towards her. He smiled to her and met her with a hug. She felt her whole body shaking as she returned his hug. While she wasn't exactly close with her mentor, she knew that he cared for her and that was all she needed in that moment.

"Do you need to sit?" He could tell she was shaking too. Clarke pulled back and shook her head, a small smile plastered on her lips. "You did a fantastic job, Clarke. You talked about everything we needed to, and nothing more." He pulled away from her and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled in thanks. "Wells is doing well too." She turned to the monitor in the corner of the room and walked up to it.

Wells had just made the audience laugh at something he said. He looked slightly confused, so Clarke wondered if he did that on purpose or if it was a complete accident. Knowing him, it was probably by accident. He wasn't particularly funny. Regardless, the more they laughed, the better he was doing.

"Now, Wells, I want to know more about what you have planned for the future?" The interviewer sure seemed good to be digging up information. He had asked the right questions to get Bellamy to talk about Clarke, he had asked the right questions to get Clarke talk about her past. And now, it seemed like he was digging for something again.

"I never planning too far ahead – I just took things one step at a time," he said. "I know my dad would want me to say become mayor, but-"

"That's right!" The interviewer was terrible at faking surprise. Clarke rolled her eyes. _That's_ what he was digging for. "Your father is the mayor of District 6, is he not?"

"He is." Wells had grown slightly uncomfortable. Clarke knew it was because so many other tributes had been using the fact he was the son of the mayor to get under his skin. _Specifically Murphy._

"Tell me what it's like to have a father that is so popular? What is it like to be living in the politics of it all?"

Clarke had to tune him out. She couldn't stand to hear him talk about how wonderful it was to be the son of the mayor. She knew that he was proud of his dad – who wouldn't have been? She had been proud of Jaha too, once. When he got elected, she had stood in his house and celebrated alongside Wells.

Now, it made her sick. The Jaha family was the reason her dad was dead. While she was working towards forgiving Wells, she couldn't bring herself to listen to him talk about the highlights of being the son of the mayor.

She knew he would talk about it too. That was one thing he had going for himself; the citizens of the Capitol liked to think of the mayors and their children as some of their own. They were like extended family; not quite Capitol worthy, but not as worthless as normal district citizens. He would be stupid to not play up his role in politics and how proud he was of his dad. Clarke knew she would've if she was in his position. She just couldn't bare to hear those words come from his mouth.

Instead, she wondered over to the table with food on it. It was small for the Capitol, but she knew her father would've passed out if she had seen the amount of food set aside for the three of them. He was always focused on reducing waste and limiting resource usage.

As she picked up a piece of fruit, she tried to listen to the monitor. She was shocked to hear them talking about _her._ "Yeah, I agree. She's a strong tribute and a good person," Wells said.

"And you two used to be friends back home, I hear?" Clarke wondered where he heard that information. She felt herself growing more and more uncomfortable by the questions the host was asking.

"We used to be, yeah. We grew up beside each other, actually. Like… literally beside each other. Our yards share the same tree." The crowed laughed and Clarke was sure that he wasn't _trying_ to be funny in that moment.

"But you aren't allies?"

"No. We aren't."

"Why's that?"

Clarke swore under her breath. _Don't mess this up, Wells._

"Not all friendships last a lifetime. I'm sure everyone watching this could think of one person in their life that they used to be close with, but aren't any more. That's just the way it goes, you know? But even if we aren't as close as we used to be, I'll always support her."

Clarke swallowed thickly and turned back to the table of fruit. She picked up pear and bit into it mindlessly, trying her best not to think about Wells' interview.

It wasn't too long after when Wells walk into the room. Stumbled would've been a better term, actually. He looked just as sick as she felt and his hands were shaking in front of him.

"Nice job," she heard Kane say. Just like he did with her, he pulled Wells into a hug. Clarke felt a pang in her chest when she realized just how badly he was trembling.

Clarke picked up another apple from the fruit table and walked over to him. When he pulled away from Kane, she held it out to him, a half-smile on her face. He took it slowly, a hesitant smile on his face.

She wanted to tell him that it was okay. She wanted to tell him that she understood what he was going through, and that he wasn't alone.

But she didn't.

"You did good," she said. "And… thanks. For earlier. I needed that."

"And I needed this," he said, lifting up his apple. "Thank you. You did good too."

Clarke turned back to the food table and picked up a few berries for herself. She just had to wait for Charlotte and Lincoln to talk, then she planned to scrape off the ridiculous makeup on her face.

Finally, Charlotte walked onto the stage. Clarke felt a swell of pride in her chest as she watched the young girl. Even though she knew she would be scared, she still had a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. She clearly looked stressed and frightened, but she put on a good show. Lincoln must've calmed her down enough.

It was hard for Clarke to believe that she was the youngest tribute that year. She was only twelve. It broke her heart to know a girl that young would have to be fighting against eighteen year olds for their life. At least she still held onto some of her childhood – she had a glimmer in her eye and a bounce in her step.

Charlotte talked about her family at home. She had a tough family life, with both of her parents dying while she was young and she was raised by her grandmother. She spoke about her friends in her district and her favourite subjects in school. Clarke couldn't help by smile – she was still so innocent and had so much life to live.

Lincoln's interview was similar to Bellamy's. He spoke about his family back home – where he revealed that he had several younger sisters. _That was a fact Clarke didn't know about him_. That seemed to be a common theme of the night; as it turned out, Clarke didn't know much about her allies outside of the Games.

Lincoln being an older brother the fact that he was so good with Charlotte make sense – she probably reminded him of his sisters.

Clarke was proud of her alliance members. They all did well in the interviews and they did well in training. Kane had assured her that there were sponsors that had shown interest, so she was feeling confident.

 _She felt good._

Even though she was hours away from heading in the arena, she felt _good._ She held onto that feeling, because she knew it wouldn't last passed tomorrow.

* * *

 **Sorry for the lack of Bellarke in this chapter. But uhhhhhhhh the next chapters should make it worth it!**

 **Re: Bellarke Fanwork Awards.** Even though these awards ended a few weeks ago, I realized I never gave an update! I am so thankful that I managed to make it to the finals in several categories (including one category with this fanfic!). A huge thank you to everyone who voted for this fic to get there. While I didn't win, I am soooooo proud and happy to know that there are so many people out there reading and loving this fic. It's honestly such a dream and I'm so thankful. xxx

 **I also promised to explain the super slow update (ugh 15 days… it is too long). Since the last update, I was busy taking finals, so I was prioritizing studying and taking exams. During my downtime, I also started a new Bellarke fanfic called "changing tides." It's a modern AU where Bellamy and Clarke decide to marry each other platonically and start a family, and they totally don't fall in love in the process or anything…**

I am hosting a Bellarke event on Tumblr called **Bellarke January Joy**. Every day for the month of January, content creators have signed up to post a piece of theirs (whether that be a fanfic, fan art, gifset, moodboard, video edit, or anything like that). I'm running it to spread some Bellarke positivity mid-hiatus, to carry the momentum over from the holiday season, and to start the new year off with a bunch of Bellarke content. And it's also a cool way to get a bunch of content creators from different platforms and with different styles/mediums all coming together to contribute to a bigger project. If you're a content creator, I invite you to check it out! If you're a reader, I also invite you to check it out! Starting January 1st, a bunch of fanfics (and other beautiful Bellarke things) will be posted!

 **Thank you all for all of the wonderful reviews. They truly make my day. And thank you for the favourites and follows! I'm constantly blown away by everyone's support xx**

 **I'll try to update once again this week, but, if not, it'll be before the new year!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Paw**


	18. Chapter 18: Under the Stars

**Merry Christmas, if you celebrate this holiday like I do. If you don't celebrate Christmas, then happy holidays/happy winter season!**

 **Warnings: coarse language**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Under the Stars**

* * *

For the second night in a row, Clarke pulled on Bellamy's sweater and relished in the safety it brought her. While the air was humid that night, she felt like she needed the extra comfort it brought. Somehow, despite only knowing him for a week, he made her feel safe and his sweater made her feel like she was home.

 _Tomorrow morning, she would be heading into the arena._ The thought absolutely petrified her.

Earlier that night, she had felt a great wave of relief when she finished her interview. _She was done. She had done it. She survived something she was terrified of._

Only moments later did everything com crashing down around her. She had survived one tiny thing leading up to the actual challenge. Suddenly, her relief vanished, being replaced with absolute gut-wrenching dread.

She had been in that state for the last few hours. She could barely bring her hand up to wipe the makeup off of her face when she got the opportunity to, her limbs had felt so weak.

 _Then she looked in the mirror and her heart stopped._

Blue.

 _That was the colour of her eyes._

Under all of the makeup, that was almost the only feature she could identify about herself. _Her blue eyes._ The same blue that her father had. The same blue ones she stared into moments before he was assassinated.

 _That was enough to remind her exactly why she was in the Capitol._ The reminder of who _she was_ and who _her father was_ and the so-called crime they committed was enough to push back her nerves and calm her mind.

She was absolutely terrified still, don't get her wrong, but she could feel determination seep into her bones. She wasn't done fighting and she wasn't done living. _Tomorrow won't be death,_ she told herself. _Tomorrow will be hell, but it won't be the end._

Her father was enough to get her through those final few hours. Her punishment and the unjust system was enough to fill her with determination. _She_ was enough to find the strength to survive.

After she had removed her makeup, the team from District 6 ate together for the last time. Her stomach felt like it had been twisted up as she tried to shovel in her food. Across from her, Wells was merely pushing around the peas on his plate, a sick expression on his face.

 _It seemed that the reality of their situation was hitting them hard that night._

They were both heading into the arena and they were both going to die.

She barely remembered the meal. All she could remember was how her thoughts blurred together. She could remember the soft touch of Sienna on her shoulder as she passed by her. The simple touch brought her nearly to tears. She of all people knew what they were heading into.

 _Kane also knew what they were heading into._ Death, destruction, and dehumanization. He knew that tonight was truly the end of the lives they knew. While her life had changed dramatically a year ago and then once again when she was reaped, she knew an even bigger change was coming.

When she excused herself from the table, Kane followed after her. "Be strong, Clarke. They'll try to break you in there. They'll throw everything they have to hurt you, but you can do it – you can come home. I know you have it in you." Clarke didn't have it in her to tell him that she _couldn't_ come home. "Remember this; being a good leader means knowing which battles to fight. Be strategic. Be smart. Be strong. I'll help when I can."

And, simply, his last words; "May the odds be in your favour tomorrow and always."

 _But that had been hours ago._

Now, the sun had completely disappeared and the stars were shining brightly. _The night was calling to her_ and she really didn't have the strength to resist the temptation.

She slipped out of the window and made her way to the roof again. It was a familiar path now, one that she had followed for many nights. She dropped down onto the tarmac and glanced around, surveying for any dangers. _It was a habit she got into ever since the Careers made their appearance._

She caught sight of a single figure across the roof, leaning on the ledge just above where she sat at last night. She couldn't fight the wide smile that burst across her face when she caught sight of him, and she couldn't ignore the way her heart hammered in her chest.

 _Bellamy was already waiting for her on the roof._

He, once again, had followed through on his promise of tomorrow. She never really doubted him in the first place.

She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she made her way towards him. Her feelings were beyond words in that moment. Most of all, she felt relief that she was able to speak to him one last time. She was relieved that she was able to seek comfort with him one last night.

 _And she was terrified that this was goodbye._

"Hey," Clarke greeted as she walked up behind him. He turned his head to the side slightly and smirked when he caught a glimpse of her.

"Hey." He fully turned around, a wide smile on his face. His eyes scanned her quickly and he smiled wider. "Nice sweater." She tugged in the end awkwardly and examined it.

"I hope you don't mind, but..." She stopped talking, already knowing she didn't have a conclusion to that sentence. Last night, she had an excuse to wear it – it was freezing out and she didn't have a sweater. Tonight though, she _didn't_ have an excuse. It wasn't too cold out and she _did_ have a sweater left for her in her room. _She just chose to wear this one._

"Nope. Don't mind," he dismissed her worries easily.

Bellamy turned back to leaning over the edge of the roof, looking out over the city. Clarke stared at him for a long moment, soaking in the moment they were in.

 _One of the last ones they would have,_ she reminded herself. Her heart panged with hurt that she hadn't felt before. She tried to ignore it.

Instead, she focused on the man in front of her. He was dressed in a long black cardigan, paired with a blue shirt and black pants. His shoulders were pulled forward and his hands were collapsed together on the edge, giving the impression of relaxation. _She knew different though._ No tribute would be relaxed on the night before they were sent into the arena.

 _She was right._ While she could barely see the details of his face without the light, she felt the stress and worry rolling off of him.

He turned back to her once he realized she wasn't coming and patted the ledge beside him, inviting her over. She walked up beside him and copied his posture. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the ledge, hanging her fingertips over the edge of the roof. Together, they looked out over the city.

Clarke tried to ignore her thoughts in that moment, even though they felt like they were screaming to be heard. _What would the arena be? Would she be able to find her allies? Who would die in the bloodbath? Would she be able to lead them?_ Her thoughts seemed to swarm around her head.

It was easy to get lost in them.

"It's beautiful," Bellamy said, breaking the stupor they were both under.

Clarke agreed wholeheartedly. Looking at the Capitol was like looking at a whole different world. While she grew up without hardship, the Capitol took things to the next level. They were all about luxury and cost and cushion. She didn't imagine that people that grew up in the Capitol had any real idea about what went on in the districts.

"It is."

They stared out at the bright lights for a while, both too content to speak. Advertisements lit up the sides of buildings, trying to convince people to follow the newest hair trends. Below them, people were in the streets cheering and celebrating the Games. Music and cheering filled the otherwise silent night. She could see a large scoreboard a few blocks away and she knew that was where their odds were listed.

She wondered how many people bet on her. _She wondered how many bet on Bellamy._

She had to agree; the Capitol was beautiful, but it hid the ugly truth. _It was a truth so ugly that she was being killed for knowing it._ The government didn't care about any them – not even those living in the Career Districts.

The Capitol was lying; they lied about everything. They lied about District 13 to get them to fall in line, and they built off that fear to make them compliant to poverty and the Games. They manipulated the citizens. They ruled with fear. _They killed children for entertainment._ They were monsters and the Capitol was a big, disgusting mess.

She turned away from the city, suddenly feeling too sick of it to look at it. How could something so beautiful be so distorted? _How could beauty hide such an ugly truth?_

She hated the Capitol and everything it stood for. She hated the Capitol for ruining her life. She hated the Capitol for murdering children. She hated the Capitol for terrorizing people. She hated the Capitol for murdering her father. She hated the Capitol for lying to its people.

Clarke slid down the back of the wall, falling towards the ground slowly. Once she was seated, she curled her legs inwards and sucked in a deep breath. _The thoughts still buzzed around her head._ She rested her head in her hands for a brief moment while she gathered herself.

"You okay?" _Bellamy seemed to ask her that a lot_.

He joined her on the ground, his knee brushing against hers. She smiled weakly, thankful that he was able to read her well, and turned her head up to look at the stars. _At least the stars weren't liars and corrupt, and they were still beautiful._ Nothing was hidden with them. _That thought gave her peace._

"Just thinking," Clarke responded after a long moment.

She usually brushed off his concern, but she didn't have that energy that night. Every once of her strength had already been used up during the interviews, and even _more_ of her strength had gone into preparing for tomorrow.

 _This was her last night being truly free_. As soon as she got in that arena, her fate was sealed. At least under the stars, she could pretend that she was free. Under the stars, she could pretend that she wasn't just a tribute. She could pretend her life meant more than it did.

Bellamy let out a long sigh and let his head droop against the wall. She wondered how tired he was; he had been through the exact same things that she had been through over the last few weeks, and even more during the weeks leading up to him volunteering. He must've been exhausted – just like her.

"They used to tell stories about the stars," he said. He was looking up at the stars, studying them. "Humans, I mean." He turned to face her, a soft expression on his face. "At least they did before the Dark Days and before Panem. That's what I've read anyways."

"Like fairy tales?" she wondered out loud. He chuckled and faced the sky once again.

"Yeah, sort of like that." He lifted his finger to the sky, pointing towards a single star. "That's the North Star."

Clarke's eyebrows furrowed. "But that's not north," she pointed out.

He nodded. "When these stars were named, it was in the North. It used to guide hunters and travelers back home. That was a long time ago." He lowered his finger and tucked his hand under his cardigan. "It's been so long that the sky has shifted a bit. While that isn't true north, it's pretty damn close."

Clarke turned to him, a smile on her face. Sensing eyes on him, he looked to her. When he caught her staring, he cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You really know your stuff," she said.

He blew out a breath of air and shrugged. "I used to read whatever I could get my hands on. O never was one for fairy tales – she preferred the hardened versions from ancient times." Clarke snorted at that; somehow, she could perfectly imagine a toddler Octavia wanting to read Ovid.

Clarke turned back to the sky, a newfound sense of wonder filling her. She tried to envision someone telling stories about the stars, but it was hard. All she could see when she looked at them was distant suns looking back at her. All she could see was the science behind them.

Sure, if she searched for it, she could see shapes that the stars made, but she couldn't imagine finding those same shapes over and over again. _Constellations._ That's what they were called. She couldn't imagine finding constellations over and over again, and then remembering stories that went along with each. _It was baffling._

While she knew she should've been thinking about more important things, like her survival and strategy, she couldn't help but push those thoughts away. She promised herself that she would start living without reservations when she was around Bellamy, and that meant living in the moment. _Plus,_ what was the point in stressing over the inevitable? In that moment, she couldn't see one that outweighed her _want_ to just _be_ with Bellamy in that moment.

"I've always liked the stars," Clarke mumbled. "They always reminded me that I'm not alone; that the world around us is so small that it could be considered insignificant in the scheme of the universe."

Bellamy glanced at her. "Somehow, I don't see how that's reassuring." He bumped her shoulder with his to show he was joking. She smiled slightly at his attempt. What she said _did_ sound dark.

"I just mean that whatever happens, it isn't the end of the world. It isn't the end of humanity. We are just small things sitting on a rock floating in space. Somehow, it just made the rough times less terrible. Just knowing that this wasn't infinity. That this wasn't the fate for everyone."

Bellamy sat for a moment, thinking. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he glanced towards her. "You think there's human life on other planets?" he said.

She shrugged. "Why not?" They fell silent for a bit, once again. It was nice being able to be _silent_ with someone else. They were both too exhausted from their day, but being beside each other was worth it. "I just mainly liked the stars because they made me feel free. They made me feel like everything was going to be okay."

"I liked the stars because of their potential," he said. "I always liked to imagine what it would be like, living among the stars." He smirked at that. "I never really thought about how to do that, though. Another planet, maybe? A spaceship?" He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up at odd angles. Clarke thought he looked extra cute with his hair tussled; how that was possible, she wasn't sure. "However we decided, I'm sure life would be better than sending children to fight to their deaths."

Clarke's stomach dropped at that. Suddenly, those thought that she had been pushing away fell to her shoulders again. _They_ were the children being sent to fight to their deaths. _That was them._

 _This was their last moment together_. Clarke's stomach churned and she felt like she could get sick. After tonight, they would be in the arena. They wouldn't be able to train together, or sneak off to hallways to talk, or sit on the roof for hours, or joke, or share private thoughts.

 _This was it._

Just at Bellamy mentioning the Games, she felt her whole body turn cold. The prospect of the arena was terrifying on its own, but there was an added weight that came with Bellamy.

 _This was their last time together._ They weren't allies – they weren't going to seek each other out in the arena. _This was their goodbye._

And it was forever. _That_ was guaranteed. One or both of them would die within the next weeks – it was an unavoidable fate.

Even though he wasn't dead yet, she knew she was going to lose him tonight. As soon as they parted ways, he would be fighting alongside his sister and she would be fighting alongside her friends. _This was goodbye._

She felt herself shifting towards him the slightest bit, trying to get closer to him. If this was their last moments together, she didn't want to spend them away from him. She wanted to be pressed beside him again, their hands intertwined like the previous night. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms again, them seemingly shielding her from the outside world. She wanted to feel his warmth and be surrounded by his light.

Somehow, he had quickly become her closest friend in the Capitol. She could trust him, and she _did_ with many of her thoughts and deepest fears. She could be herself around him and she didn't have to worry about strategies or sponsors or cameras. She connected with him, more so than she had felt in her entire life.

 _And this was goodbye._

Their shoulders brushed, but neither of them jerked away. Bellamy seemed to be thinking the same thing as she was, as he leaned closer to her too.

"I'm going to miss this," he said. Clarke couldn't find the strength in her to turn to look at him. She was afraid that if she seen him in that moment, she wouldn't be able to hold the tears back. "I'm going to miss sitting under the stars, not worrying about who is watching and what we are doing. I'll miss being here." He swallowed thickly. "I'll miss being with you." He turned to face her slightly, examining her for a reaction. She could feel her cheeks heat up and her stomach fill with butterflies.

He had quickly become someone she trusted and someone she considered a friend – there was no denying that. But over the last few nights, there had been something more. _She had felt something more._

Every time their fingers brushed, they tingled. Every time he complimented her, she felt as light as air. Every time he looked at her, she got butterflies in her stomach. _And there was so much more._ The fact that he was the one she felt safe around, the fact that she was willing to share her soul with him, the fact that she was always seeking out his eyes…

 _She liked him._

It was terrifying to admit, even just to herself in her own head. Acknowledging the fact that she felt something towards him that was more than just friendship was terrifying. _He was supposed to be the enemy. They were supposed to be strangers._

But he wasn't. They weren't.

Bellamy Blake was special. _She knew him._ He wasn't a normal tribute and he wasn't a normal Career. He wasn't someone that followed the rules or bent to the standards; he made his own path and followed that.

 _And he knew her._ He was one of the only people to know who she truly was. He had looked into the darkest parts of her and not run away. He had listened to her fears and her dreams and everything in between, and had always promised her a tomorrow.

Her admission made her want to cry. _She liked him and they were parting tonight._ They weren't going to see each other again. They would die before they would speak again. She had opened her heart, only for it to be crushed. _Typical._

She brushed it off. She told herself to live without reservations. If he made her happy – _and he did_ – then what did it matter? Wasn't a week of happiness worth the pain to come later, when she lost him?

Still, there was a nagging voice at the back of her head. _Don't do it. Don't give in. Hold back. It'll save yourself some pain._ It was tempting, knowing that there was an option out there to save her some heartache and some pain. _But she didn't want that if she had to give up this past week._

Instead of leaning further into his hold, she pulled back and tugged his sweater around her middle and pulled her legs up to her chest. She rested her chin on her knee and continued to stare up at the stars.

Bellamy didn't comment on her sudden withdrawal from him and she couldn't blame him. It was so easy to get lost in thought and be oblivious to the world.

For a while, it was peaceful. Bellamy didn't dare say a word and neither did she. They just sat, enjoying each other's company. _Enjoying one last night of safety and freedom._

Clarke thought back to his interview earlier that night. Specifically, she thought back to his response over leaving people he loved behind in his district. He had completely avoided that question.

 _She didn't know if he had a girlfriend_.

Somehow, not knowing that one fact about him bothered her. She _wanted_ to know that side of him.

"Yesterday, you mentioned Wells," Bellamy broke the silence. Clarke turned to face him, finally looking away from the stars. "You two were close?"

"We used to be best friends," she confided in him. He probably already knew that, since Wells mentioned it during his interview. She was torn over how much else she should mention.

It was hard to talk about Wells, even if she had been able to interact with him without hostilities. She hadn't forgiven him for all the pain he caused her, and she doubted she ever would at that point. _They would both be dead before she ever could._

It was even harder to talk about Wells, considering how intertwined he was with her father's assassination and her knowledge about District 13. It felt impossible to talk about Wells without the whole story.

For the second time that day, she was hit with the sudden urge to scream about District 13. Wouldn't it be easy enough to lean over the ledge of the roof and _yell?_ She knew enough citizens of the Capitol were below. She knew Peacekeepers were patrolling the streets. _She knew people would hear her. She knew people would listen._

She grit her teeth in frustration. Holding a secret that could change lives, but never being able to do anything about it was absolute agony.

It felt like it was bursting out of her. It felt like, with every second that ticked by, all she wanted to do was _scream_ about it. All she wanted to do was complete the goals that her father had. All she wanted to do was follow through on the plan.

Each day that death got closer, the urge to tell someone grew.

 _But she couldn't._ She couldn't risk the people she loved. She would willingly hold onto this secret for the rest of her life if it meant nobody she loved would get hurt.

 _Her mother. Her allies. Bellamy._

"And what happened?" Bellamy prompted.

Clarke's mouth felt dry as she responded to him. "Then he ruined it." _She wished that she was speaking other words in that moment. She wished she was speaking the truth._

Bellamy nodded his head slowly. "Got it. I always thought you two knew each other. I mean, he did attack me when we were talking that first day, but I just assumed he was a jealous ex." His voice trailed off, almost like it was begging her to continue talking. Clarke choked on her breath when she heard what Bellamy was implying.

"Wells? Oh, no. He and I… Uh… We never… No." She stumbled over her words in her haste to correct him. "He was my best friend and he was like a brother to me. Never anything more. But after what he did last year, I couldn't..." Her thoughts trailed off. She knew that she couldn't complete that sentence. She knew she was treading near dangerous waters.

 _It scared her._

"Last year," he repeated. "Does he have anything to do with you being sent to lock-up?"

Her heart felt like it had stopped and a flood of dread flew through her. _Don't do this, Bellamy,_ she begged. She turned to him, a warning in her eyes. She begged him silently not to ask any more questions. _It was a dangerous game to play_.

Seeing the desperate look in her eyes, he held up his hands in defeat. "Sorry. Just trying to put pieces together." She turned back to the stars and tried to pretend that the hammering of her heart wasn't there. "He volunteered for the Games."

She swallowed thickly. "He did."

"For you?"

"Unfortunately."

Bellamy was silent for a long moment and Clarke was thankful for it. He was too smart for his own good. _I am keeping this from you for your own good,_ she wanted to tell him.

But part of her laughed at that. It was fairly ironic that the secret she held could _help_ lives, but telling it would _risk_ lives. What a shit show.

"He must have something pretty important to say to you," he said. "He came all this way for it." Clarke gave him a long and pleading look. "I'm just saying. He volunteered to die for you to know."

The words stung Clarke more than she thought they would. _Wells did volunteer to die for her._

"You avoided the question during your interview," Clarke said, changing the subject completely. Bellamy raised his eyebrow, but didn't say anything about the sudden subject change. "He asked if you had a girlfriend. You never answered."

His lips twitched, hinting at a smile. "Because there's nothing to say," he answered. He glanced to the sky, once again becoming _entirely too_ interested in the stars. "Not too many women want a guy who doesn't place them as his priority. I always had Octavia. Nobody really enjoyed having my attention split. Nobody liked not being the number one girl in my life." He took a brief pause before he continued. "Not like I didn't get to experience that. I did. They just never stuck around."

"Really?" Somehow, Clarke found that hard to believe. His devotion to Octavia was one of the reasons she began to care for him in the first place. How could someone not see his love for his sister as an admirable trait? He was loyal to a fault, a provider, such a caring man, and loved with his whole heart.

"I don't blame them," he added with a dry chuckle. "I wouldn't date me either." He sent her a goofy grin which, in turn, made her smile.

"Well, I for one don't agree," she said, her tone light. As soon as the words left her mouth, her smile disappeared and she wanted to kick herself. Hopefully he didn't catch on to her saying that she didn't agree he was undateable.

 _The truth was, she found him extremely dateable._ That was a problem.

He stared at her for a long moment, but she tried to ignore him. His eyes were completely locked on her face as she stared at the sky. She could feel him staring, but didn't dare turn to him. She knew if she did, she would blush more than she was already.

When did she become someone that could blush so easily? It was almost like she was a different person around Bellamy. After a year of being alone, he really brought her back to life in the best ways possible.

Finally, he looked away and back to the stars. They were silent for a while, each focusing on their own thoughts. He was the one to break the silence again.

"Clarke?" She turned to face him. She was shocked by how different his voice sounded. _He sounded desperate._ "You're strong. You're smart. You're resilient. You can win this thing." He swallowed thickly, a tiny smile on his face. "Just tell me you'll try to win? Even if you think it's impossible, just tell me you'll try. Please."

Her heart broke. If only he knew the truth, he would be able to see that what he was asking was impossible. She would never be going back home. She would never be able to become the Victor.

"I'm not giving up easily," she responded. _That was true._ She didn't plan to give up, no matter what her odds were. "But it's not up to me." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. _Once again, she was just a piece of the Capitol and the Games._ "There's no way the Capitol is willing to let me out of that arena."

Bellamy was silent for a long moment. Clarke wanted to tell him the truth. Moment by moment, her will against doing so wore thinner. _She needed someone to know._ She wanted someone to know.

 _No._ She wanted _him_ to know.

"What did you do that they want you dead so badly?" Clarke didn't respond right away and Bellamy kept talking. "You were in isolation, so you must know something you shouldn't. They wouldn't put you there for any other reason."

Clarke locked eyes with him. She had thought it before, but he had just proved it again; _he was too smart for this own good._

She couldn't remember _exactly_ which thought sprung to her mind first, but it was a mix between 'screw it,' 'live with no reservations,' and 'I need him to know.'

 _How could the Capitol hurt her any more than they already did?_

Really, she knew that there were bigger risks out there than just herself. She knew that by telling anyone – including Bellamy – she would be risking more than just her life.

 _It was her life._

 _Her mother._

 _Raven. Monty. Lincoln. Charlotte. Murphy._

 _Octavia. Bellamy._

It could put all of them in potential danger.

In that moment, she couldn't keep quiet anymore. _She needed to tell someone._ She needed to. She couldn't die with this secret. She refused to let the Capitol win.

 _That's what she was doing by keeping quiet._ She was just letting them win.

They were both planning on dying anyways. Did it really matter if he knew? Who could he tell anyways? They were headed into the arena, where all but one of the tributes would die. Even if he told every person inside that arena, she knew the secret would die there. The secret would die with the crowning of the Victor.

And, somehow, she knew he wouldn't say anything. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else at that point. He already knew so much about her and had every opportunity to use that knowledge against her, but he didn't. _He didn't betray her trust._

She needed to talk to someone about it. The secret had been eating away at her for the last year and it was dying to come out. He was the person she trusted the most.

The only reason she could find to not tell him was because it was putting who they both loved in danger. _Her mother. Octavia. Her friends._

But if not now, when? There were no cameras. It was just them and the stars.

"It's bad," Clarke warned. She had to clench her fist to keep her hand from shaking. Just thinking about telling someone shook her to the core. Risking the lives of the people she loved terrified her.

 _But not saying anything terrified her more._

"I don't care."

"And dangerous."

He shook his head. "Don't care." He leaned closer to her. She could feel his breath on her face. "If you don't want to, you don't have to."

She nodded and swallowed thickly. "I know." She quickly weighed the options in her head. One last time, she tried to caution him. "Bellamy, I'm serious. They could kill you over this. If they know that you know, they _will_ kill you."

"I'm a dead man walking anyways." Clarke didn't laugh like he was hoping. "Besides, they won't know I know," he said. " _Nobody will know_. I… I can tell what's at risk, Clarke. You haven't told anyone the reason you went to lock-up, not even during your interview when they asked. _I know you._ I know this has been weighing on you." Clarke nodded slowly. "I wouldn't betray your trust like that."

"And you can't tell anyone." They locked eyes again.

"I won't, Clarke."

" _Promise me,"_ she begged. If she was being honest, she would have to admit that she didn't even _need_ him to promise. She didn't need any more reassuring. _She knew he wouldn't say anything._

"Clarke, I promise I won't say anything. I would swear on anything you want." She nodded. _She knew._ He smiled gently at her. "I'm here. I'm here to listen. I'm here _for you._ Share your burden with me." As Bellamy spoke, her stomach filled with butterflies once again, but for an entirely different reason this time.

"I accidentally found out a secret the Capitol has been keeping for decades."

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This chapter was probably the most difficult to write out of this fic so far.**

 _ **Mainly, I struggled with Clarke coming to the decision to tell Bellamy the secret. When I came up with the idea to this fic, I knew I wanted this as a scene and I knew I wanted Bellamy to know the secret before going into the arena. I knew I for sure didn't want to do this in the arena because there would be too many cameras, and then the Capitol would know exactly who knows and what they know.**_

 _ **But, while I was writing, I was having** **such** **a tough time justifying why Clarke would tell Bellamy, even if she knew she was potentially putting people she loved in danger.**_

 _ **I hope my explanation makes sense. She wants to tell someone before she dies, so she carries on the plan that her father had. She wants to tell someone because she's been carrying this huge burden for a year, and now that she's close to death, she needs to talk about it. She feels like she trusts Bellamy more than she trusts anyone else in her life.**_

 _ **It was hard for me to come up with a reason that made sense for this story and for the characters. When I get into dilemmas like this, I usually turn to the source material. On the show, when Clarke tells the other delinquents about the Ark running out of oxygen, they're already on the ground and the Ark has no leverage over them, so that didn't really work out.**_

 **Oh well. Enough ranting. I hope my explanation make sense! It was one aspect of this fic that I struggled with for months.**

 **Once again, I really appreciate all of the reviews, favourites and follows. So much love to everyone reading. I would really appreciate some feedback on this chapter, since it's one I've been worried about for a long time haha!**

 **Happy holidays/happy Monday, depending on what you celebrate!**

 **Paw**


	19. Chapter 19: Just Walk Away

**Sorry for the later post! I posted two chapters recently on AO3 and realized I never posted them here. So... it's another double post day!**

 **Warnings: talking about death, blood, and coarse language.**

 **This was one chapter I've had in my head ever since I planned this fic, so I'm really excited to share it. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Just Walk Away**

* * *

She didn't want to meet his eyes as she spoke. Her heart was racing in her chest. All she could hear was the rush of blood through her ears.

If she was being honest, she felt just as nervous in that moment as she did as she was walking towards her interview.

 _So much could change. So much was at risk._

She glanced at him again briefly. Seeing his concern and care on his face was enough to recenter and refocus.

"I accidentally found out a secret the Capitol has been keeping for decades." Her voice had dropped quieter than a whisper. Bellamy ducked his head so his ear was at level with her mouth. "It's what got my dad murdered. It's what got me sent into isolation. I'm fairly sure that's why I was reaped for the Games."

Bellamy pulled back slightly, surprise covering his face. "You're implying that the reapings aren't random," he said. She nodded her head. _That's exactly what she was saying._

Nothing that came from the Capitol was real. Nothing that happened was just or fair.

"I'm weeks away from being 18." She cocked her head. "Well, I guess it's _days_ , now. Once I reach that age, I'm re-evaluated for my crimes. That means I would be in front of a jury and I would be pleading my case in front of a Peacekeeper. I was arrested for treason and put in isolation because _they can't afford this secret getting out_. How would they allow me to plead my case if nobody else can know what I know?" Bellamy didn't say anything, so she continued. "They couldn't just execute me either. The people would know something was wrong. They would view the Capitol as the heavy hand, and me as a martyr. They couldn't afford to do that."

"So they sent you to the Games," he finished. His voice trembled, like he was just as terrified as she was over the situation. They locked eyes again. He swallowed thickly. "What do you know?"

 _One last chance to back out. One last chance to keep her mouth shut._

Clarke clenched her fists. _The Capitol didn't own her. This was her story. This was her life._

"My dad and I discovered that the Capitol didn't destroy District 13."

With those words, the air got sucked out from between them. Bellamy flinched backwards, his eyes more haunted than she had ever seen them before. _That was saying something, considering they had talked about death and loss before._

He didn't say anything for a long time, and neither did she. She wanted him to process things before she continued talking; that is, _if_ he wanted to know more. All she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears. She ran her hands along her pants, wicking away the clamminess. She felt like she was going to get sick.

 _That was the first time she said those words out loud._ Other than mentioning it to Wells the previous year, she had never told anybody else.

 _He now knew her biggest secret._

She could tell Bellamy was panicking. She could see him clenching and unclenching his jaw. His hands were fists at his side and his eyes kept focusing and unfocusing. She wondered what she could do to comfort him. _Was there anything she could do?_

When she was in his position, was there anything that could've been done to lessen her panic? Was there anything that could've been said to her to make things better?

No. Because no matter what the other person said, nothing would change. The Capitol still would be lying to their neighbors. The Capitol would still be killing children, promoting an environment of fear. The Capitol would still be draining each district of resources and abusing their power, nobody speaking up because of that same fear. District 13 would still be out there, unwilling to help set them free from the hellish world they lived in.

Nothing about this situation was okay. _Nothing she could say would make it okay._

"What?" His voice sounded numb and distant. It was cracked with emotion.

Clarke felt bad for him. She remembered how she felt when she found out. She was both elated and devastated. She never experienced anything like it before. Finding out about District 13 was like an out-of-body experience.

Losing her dad and her freedom was something she had never experienced before. At that point, she was so numb to surprises. She remembered still feeling shocked and rage and burning agony, but it wasn't like what Bellamy was experiencing in that moment. Those events were personal attacks on her, but, to him, they were showcasing how brutal and cruel the Capitol was.

To him, her father's assassination and her imprisonment contributed to the bigger picture in that moment.

When Bellamy continued to look lost, Clarke reached for him and tried to keep her voice gentle. Her hand rested on his wrist, her touch as feather light as possible. "District 13 was never wiped out. There are survivors. The whole district survived." Bellamy pulled away from her, pure horror on his face.

She could see him shaking – from fear, anger, or shock, she didn't know. His lips were parted slightly, almost like he was in mid-sentence. _Like he wanted to speak but he couldn't._ His chest was heaving as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

"No." He shook his head wildly. "No way. That can't be real. I… No." Bellamy got up from the ground suddenly, his movements sloppy and fragmented. Clarke watched him walk away from her, her heart jumping to her throat.

Panic flooded her system as he paced in front of her, his whole body shaking. She could feel the pain and panic _everywhere._ Adrenaline pumped through her system, sending what felt like sparks up her back.

Clarke jumped to her feet and launched herself in his path. He couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, his gaze was locked off in the distance, in the direction she knew the President's mansion was located.

"Yes." She didn't try reaching for him again, even if her heart yearned to be with him. She knew he needed space to process. She knew that he was going through a large shock – she couldn't expect him to readily accept this. _She hadn't when she found out_. He kept pacing, his hands running through his hair. She tried again. "I talked to someone from there – the daughter or granddaughter of a survivor, I'm not too sure. She's a teenager. She is _our age_ , Bellamy, and she's lived there for her whole life. She's never seen the surface until just recently, with radiation positioning everywhere." Bellamy was still pacing. "Her name is Gaia, Bellamy. She… She's real. They have a whole city below ground, a whole population that survived for decades, a whole-"

"No." He finally met her stare. Her heart broke at the frantic look in his eyes. She could see him desperately trying to hold onto the lies the Capitol had told him, but she could see him slipping. _She knew that feeling._ Sometimes, being oblivious and ignorant came with a certain bliss. Holding onto the lies came with a certain peace. _Knowing the truth was torture._ "I've seen footage. _We've all seen footage_. It's gone, Clarke. Destroyed. I… I've seen it on television before. District 13 is gone."

"I thought so too, but we were wrong." He looked on the verge of completely submitting to his panic. "Bellamy." He was still trembling and panting. "Bellamy." He wasn't listening, too caught up with his own thoughts. Clarke's heart broke. "Bellamy," she said, her voice gentle. She walked up to him and took his wrists in her hands, breaking him from the spell he seemed to be under. He locked eyes with her, searching. She could practically hear him begging for her to tell him she was lying. "It's true. District 13 is alive." He closed his eyes, like that would help shield him from some pain. "Why else would I have been put in isolation? Why else would my dad have been assassinated? Why would they go through so much trouble to keep a secret if it wasn't true?"

He opened his mouth several times, but he couldn't form an answer. He sucked in a deep breath and steeled his face. He reopened his eyes and locked onto hers.

"You're right." He puffed out his cheeks. Clarke could see some of the panic and desperation fading from his eyes. His shoulders drooped the tiniest bit and his face looked tired. "You're right. They wouldn't go through all of that trouble if it wasn't warranted. You know something they don't want you to." Clarke let go of his wrists and he ran his hands over his face. She took a step backwards, once again giving him the space he needed.

"I hope you believe me," she said, her voice wavering. She hadn't even thought about how much it would've hurt if Bellamy didn't believe her. When she told him, that hadn't been on her mind or a factor.

But, for those brief minutes as Bellamy struggled with her news, she _had_ thought about it. _And it hurt._ It hurt to think that he might not believe her. It hurt to think that he might not trust her enough to believe she wasn't making this up and lying to him.

"I believe you," he said, turning to her. This time, he was the one who reached for her hand. She fit her fingers between his, happy to have a point of contact with him. It seemed that it brought both of them comfort. "Its not like this would be the first corrupt government. There were plenty throughout history." He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I mean… well, we talked about it yesterday. I hate them. They send kids to die. They take away childhoods. They rip apart families. They feed the disparity within and across the districts, pitting all of us against each other _every day._

"And now _this?_ To lie about murdering a whole district of people? To use fear to make everyone compliant? It's sick. They're liars. They're covering up a whole district." He shook his head. He looked absolutely defeated. "They're worse than I thought. They're passed corrupt – they're passed wrong."

"I know," she said softly. Her heart went out to him – it really did. To learn something so earth shattering was terrible and complicated and heartbreaking. "My father and I found out last year. He thought the districts had the right to know. Our government was sitting on lies upon lies – they built the country from it, they built the Hunger Games from it. _Panem deserves to know the truth_. That was what he believed. That's what he tried to do – he tried to tell the people." Clarke swallowed thickly and shut her eyes, trying to keep the memories at bay.

"Then he was ripped from our home and murdered. It was framed as an accident, but my mother and I knew the truth. He was murdered for trying to do the right thing. He was murdered for trying to give power back to the people. He was murdered for being a good person." She smiled thinly. "That's why I was sent to isolation, too. I wanted to finish what he started. I wanted to tell the people and I wasn't going to rest until everyone knew the truth. I was willing to betray the government so the people could know."

Bellamy was silent for a moment. His eyes were intense as he studied her. She was mesmerized in that moment by him; he was showered in moonlight, making him look like he was glowing. His eyes were confused, curious and burning. His face was relaxed, but she recognized that expression as one of his masks.

 _He was in turmoil._ She knew that below those masks, he was in utter turmoil.

"You must've known the risks," Bellamy said after a moment. "You're smart. Even before they took your father, the both of you must've realized what telling the people would do. If you got caught even _thinking_ of betraying the Capitol, you'd be imprisoned." He chewed on his lip as he studied Clarke for a moment longer. "And you must've known what would happen after your father was assassinated. You knew that being killed was a possibility _._ "

Clarke pulled her hand away from Bellamy, choosing to wrap her arm around her torso instead. Somehow, it made her feel safer and more secure. _She needed that in that moment._ She needed to feel safe.

"I knew that I would be killed either way," she said. "If they caught me like they did with my dad, I would be killed. If I managed to get the message out to Panem, I would still be killed." She locked eyes with him, a wave of determination filling her. "I was willing to risk my life. _We_ were willing to risk our lives." She swallowed thickly. "We were willing to give up everything, Bellamy. And we did. We lost everything. _I_ lost everything."

 _Her father. Her mother. Her best friend. Her career. Her education. Her home. Her freedom. Her voice._

She lost it all. The Capitol took everything from her.

"You knew you would be executed, but you still did it?" He seemed to be looking at her oddly.

"It was the right thing to do," she insisted. "How could we live with ourselves if we knew and didn't tell the public? We'd be just as bad as the Capitol at that point. I was willing to lose everything for the greater good. I would make the same choices over and over, too, because it is the right thing to do."

"Panem doesn't deserve you," Bellamy commented, a half-smile on his lips. "I'm not saying you shouldn't have said anything. I'm just... impressed." He weighed his words carefully. "You always seem to find new ways to impress me, Clarke." He smirked at her.

She smiled back, but it didn't reach her eyes. She had just witness him go into a panic about the secret she was holding. Even though he wasn't a loyalist like most District 2 citizens, he believed in the Capitol more than she did. She had spent a full year coming to terms with the secret she carried; that was time he didn't have.

She didn't want him to think of her differently because of this. She didn't want him to not trust her or look at her with uncertainty. She had gone against the Capitol, yes, but it was what was right. She could never do the same thing if it wasn't for the greater good – for her people. She couldn't imagine doing the same thing for selfish reasons.

She was worried he wouldn't open up to her. She was worried he would fear she would tell the world his secrets. She was scared he would close off from her completely, not trusting her because of her crimes.

She could feel Bellamy staring at her. She met his gaze confidently. "You're staring," she pointed out. He abruptly looked away from her. "What's going on? You don't think of me differently now, do you?" _What did it matter?_ This was the last time they would speak anyways.

For some reason, she felt even worse about dying if he was distant from her. If they left each other on a sour note, it would make their parting that much harder. _She didn't want that._ She wanted their last moments together to be different than what she was living.

"What? No." His answer was too quick for Clarke.

"Bellamy, I'm serious, I-"

"I'm serious too, Clarke. I don't think of you differently." He stepped forward. "I don't." They were standing so close that she could feel his body heat radiating off of him. They locked eyes. She held her breath. "Actually, that's a lie."

Her heart fell and she took a small step backwards. _Of course he would think of her differently._ She had just changed his world for the worst. She had just shattered his beliefs in the country he lived in. She had just revealed herself to be untrustworthy.

"I understand," she said. She forced a thin smile onto her face and couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"I do think of you differently, Clarke. How could I not?" He stepped forward again. This time, he moved slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. She didn't. "I thought I couldn't be any more impressed by you than I already was, but I was wrong. _I was so wrong, Clarke_. The more I talk to you, the more I learn about you – the more impressed I am. You're selfless and brave. You fight for what you think is right. You don't give up, even if it's the easy thing to do." He brushed a piece of her hair away from her face. A bolt of electricity went down her spine from the contact. _Somehow, that was more intimate than anything she had ever felt before._ "I've told you before, Clarke, you're a warrior."

His eyes dropped to her lips. For the briefest moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

 _Even stranger, she wanted him to kiss her._

Then, he dropped his hand from her face and took a step back. He resumed pacing along the roof, his hands once again buried in his pockets. She looked away from him, shocked at where her thoughts led her.

 _Why the hell did she want him to kiss her?_ She told herself she wouldn't allow this to happen.

Clarke crossed her arms tightly across her chest, turning back towards Bellamy. He looked thoughtful look on his face. He was so focused and so deep in thought that he looked distant from her. She hadn't seen him like this before, so detached from his surroundings, yet so engrossed in something else.

"Your dad would be proud," he decided after a long minute. Clarke's heart jumped to her throat. She felt her fingers go completely numb. "You were willing to follow in his foot steps. You were willing to sacrifice your life to accomplish what he couldn't." Clarke felt her eyes starting to burn with unshed tears. "He sounds like a wonderful man. I wish I could've met him."

"He would've liked you," Clarke guessed, her voice crackling with emotion. "He liked people who wanted to do right. He liked people who worked hard and took care of those they loved." She swiped a few stray tears from her cheeks. Just talking about him in this way brought her a new type of pain. _She missed him so much._ "He was a good man. Accepting, strong, trusting, just."

"You're just like him, Clarke," Bellamy said. "While I didn't know him, I think you embody everything he tried to put into this world. He was just. He fought for the people. He wanted to see a world where everyone had equal opportunity. You're stronger than anyone I've ever met. You've kept this in for a whole fucking year. It would have destroyed me." He glanced at her. "To know that I have the knowledge that could change lives and not be able to tell anyone or do anything would've destroyed me. It's a burden no human could carry. _Nobody except you._ Because of your strength. And your resilience. And your good heart." His eyes felt like they were staring right into her soul. She struggled to breath from the intensity behind his eyes. "You don't deserve to be here. You don't deserve to die for what you did."

Clarke let out a wet, non-humorous laugh. "Nobody deserves to be here," she said. "We're all just children. We all belong in school and back home, with our families. We shouldn't be sacrificed for entertainment. We shouldn't be sacrificed to cultivate this climate of fear. _Nobody here deserves that._ "

"I agree, but we weren't put in here just to be murdered. We were randomly reaped or we volunteered. You... You were selected by the Capitol. _You were selected to die_. This isn't the Games for you – this is your execution." Clarke's heart stilled at his words. _This was her reality._ "And for what? So you couldn't expose them for the corrupt government that they are? So they could kill you without making you a martyr?" He shook his head forcefully. "No. That's not right. That's not fair."

"Nothing's right or fair with the Games," she insisted. "I'm just another example of that. _Those words belong to all of us."_

Without another word, Bellamy walked up to the ledge of the roof, silence consuming him. She watched as he resumed the position he was in when she first climbed onto the roof.

For the second time that night, she studied him. His hands were clenched tightly in front of him. His shoulders were tense and his head hung low, his eyes locked onto the crowded streets below. She could only imagine what was running through his head at that moment.

She felt his pain. When she found out, she didn't have time to process it either. As soon as she found out the truth, her life had changed.

Her father was taken, a good man was killed, she was betrayed by her friend, she was thrown into lock-up.

She didn't know whether she should approach him again or give him more space. She decided to wait for him to ask her to be beside him if he needed it. She didn't want to crowd him. He needed to process this. _It was surreal to realize she had never seen him process something before._ She didn't really know how he coped with things.

After what felt like the longest five minutes of her life, Bellamy straightened and spoke. "I'm just mad I won't be alive long enough to do something about this." He turned his head to face her, a broken expression on his face. "How do you deal with this? Not being able to do something?" She walked up to him slowly, giving him every opportunity to flee. _He didn't._

"I did try something – that's how I ended up here," she said. She sighed, knowing that wasn't the answer he was looking for. "This past year has been agony, knowing that I could change Panem, but not being able to. There have been so many times where all I want is to tell the truth. Even during my interviews, I had to fight the urge to yell the truth out. I knew I would've been killed for doing it, but at least people would know." Bellamy nodded his head, looking thoughtful. "I've wanted to tell the truth. _I really have._ Being in isolation was torture. And when I got out, I was sent straight here." Clarke glanced out over the city again, her lips curling into a frown. "I don't do anything now because there are a lot more thing than just _me_ at stake here. I am willing to die if it means the truth revealed, but it isn't just about _me_ anymore. I have my mother to think about. They threatened to kill her if I ever spoke about it."

Bellamy's jaw clenched. "And you told me." She nodded.

"It's not just about her anymore, either. They could hurt anyone I love. My allies, my mother, you." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "If I break the silence, I'm putting _everyone_ at risk. I can't do that. I won't do that." They both looked drained of all energy. He let out a low chuckle and peeked at her from between his fingers. She couldn't help but smile at him. "What could you possibly be laughing at?" she asked, a smile spread across her face.

There was no joy to be found in this situation, but seeing him _okay_ and _happy_ made her feel lighter. His smile was infectious.

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you or what you told me. Definitely not." He shook his head, letting his hair hang into his eyes. Clarke still couldn't suppress the smile that came to her lips as she stared at him.

"What is it?" she repeated, desperate to know what could possibly be making him laugh.

"I was just thinking that you sure know how to say goodbye. Do you tell everyone you say goodbye to a life changing secret?" he teased. Clarke cracked a smile at that even though her heart felt impossibly heavy. She knew there was nothing to really laugh or smile about. It was true, they were about to say goodbye. It was true, she had just dropped a huge secret on him. Yet, she couldn't help but smile at the whole situation. _What had her life turned in to?_

Even though it was a mess, she wouldn't change a thing. Life was easier in lock-up, away from fear and away from death, but she would've traded that life for these moments with Bellamy in a heartbeat. _She was right_. A few moments of pure happiness were better than a lifetime alone.

 _Even with death looming over them, she found happiness with him._

He was a little piece of paradise in a world full of darkness.

"I'm sorry that I told you tonight," Clarke said after a moment. "It's such bad timing. You should be focused and training and sleeping – not out here on the roof, discussing how corrupt our government is."

Bellamy bumped her shoulder with his. "I would easily give up sleep for you – any night." He sighed. "Plus, we're going to die anyways. Might as well we _both_ take this secret to the grave. Thank you for telling me."

They were silent again, the heaviness of their situation settling over them. Clarke felt like it was so thick that she couldn't break through, even if she tried. _Everything about tonight was heavy._ This was it – the end of their story.

He glanced at her again. "You know, even if the Capitol does find out you told me, they really couldn't do anything at that point." Clarke thought about this for a long moment, mulling over the different options as he spoke. "I doubt they would punish you if they found out. They wouldn't kill your mom. _There wouldn't be any reason to_. You'll be in the arena at that point – you wouldn't be able to find out if she died or not. They could kill you for telling, but that's what you think they'll do regardless. And I already plan to die." He shrugged. He sounded helpless. _She felt helpless._ "The secret will die with us – just what the Capitol wanted."

"My mom knows," she said lowly. "My dad talked to her about it. She didn't agree with him. She didn't want us telling everyone. She wanted us to forget what we heard – continue living our lives like normal. _As if I could go back to my life beforehand_. How could I live the rest of my life, knowing that the Capitol was lying to everyone? How could I live the rest of my life, wondering if I could've stopped the Hunger Games if I just said something. If I said something and the districts rebelled, so many children would be saved. Families would be kept together." She let out a shuddered breath. "She didn't agree. She said it was just the natural order of things."

"You did what was right," Bellamy reassured her. "You didn't back down from what you believed in. You wanted the people to know. It was dangerous – both if you succeeded and if you failed – but you wanted the people to make the choice for themselves. You didn't want to make it for them." She nodded slowly. That was _exactly_ how she felt about the situation. "They didn't lock her up for knowing?" Clarke shook her head.

"She wasn't willing to tell anyone. She wanted to keep it a secret. They didn't see the need."

Bellamy nodded. "They know she's loyal to them. They wouldn't consider her a risk for telling people."

Clarke blew a piece of stray hair from her face. "And Wells is dying with us, so they're really tying up the loose ends."

Bellamy eyebrows were furrowed and his forehead creased. "Your district partner? He knows too?"

Clarke realized with a start that she never told him why she and Wells butted heads to much. He thought Wells was a jealous ex-boyfriend of hers, not a guilty friend. All she told him was that they used to be friends, but that was it.

 _He hurt her. He betrayed her._ He was the cause of her pain in the past year.

At least, that's what she _wanted_ to think. It was easy to keep hating him. It was easy to put the blame on him because he was here and he was guilty. _Wasn't he?_

He may have been the one the tell his father, but he wasn't the one who decided if her father would be murdered. He wasn't the one who made that choice, even if he was the reason that information got into the wrong hands.

 _Still, it was easy to blame and hate him._

"He was the reason my dad was killed," she said. Somehow, her voice wasn't as hateful as she expected it to be. She just sounded tired and sad. "After my mom told us to keep quiet about District 13, I went to him. We were best friends at the time and I had known him my whole life. And he's smart – _so smart._ His dad was the mayor and he really understood politics. He was my best chance to figuring out what to do." Her heart hurt reliving these details. She hadn't shared these to anyone before. She never had the chance. "So, I told him what I heard. He listened. He promised me he wouldn't tell his dad. _He promised me_." She clenched her jaw to keep the tears from falling. "He promised that I could trust him. The next morning, we were being ripped from our beds. Somehow, Mayor Jaha found out. He contacted the Capitol and they sent Peacekeepers to deal with us before the sun was up." She wiped her cheeks furiously, angrily whisking the tears away. "I trusted him and he betrayed me."

"Wells told his dad that your family knew," Bellamy stated, putting the pieces together slowly.

"They found out that my dad and I had plans to tell the districts. When they broke down our door that morning, they found his long transmission radio that he was using for work – he had repurposed it to broadcasting on all channels to tell the citizens of Panem. That was all the evidence they needed. _That was the last time I seen him_."

She could still remember the pain she felt as her father was dragged from her house. She looked into his eyes one last time before the door shut, locking her inside with her mother. She could see his fear, but she also seen his determination.

She remembered falling into Wells' chest, sobbing into him. _He had been there when they took her father away._ He was there to watch his damage unfold.

It was cruel. He knew there was a possibility that all of that would happen, yet he didn't warn her. He knew that it was _his fault_ for telling his father _,_ yet he still held her while she cried.

She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the burning ache inside of her. _She wasn't doing a very good job at that_. "Anyways. That's why I don't trust him. He got my dad killed. He got me put in isolation. He's the reason I was sent to the Hunger Games. If he had only kept his mouth shut, I never would have been in this position. I mean, I would have still be sent to lock-up and my father would've been murdered as soon as we did the broadcast, but at least _the people would know._ His choices took away that from us. _It took that away from everyone._ "

"I'm sorry," Bellamy said, his voice heavy. "You had to carry this around by yourself for a whole year. You had your father, but he was taken from you. Your mother didn't agree with what you wanted. Your best friend betrayed you. _You had nobody to turn to_. You had to carry the weight of the world all alone." He took a step closer to her and rested his hand on top of hers. She savored his touch in that moment. "But you're not alone with this – not anymore. I told you to share your burden with me, and I don't intend to break that promise. Your burden is mine too." He squeezed her hand. Her chest felt inexplicably tight. "We're in this together."

She fell into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his back, taking fistfuls of the material. He didn't hesitate to reciprocate her hold. As soon as she was within his reach, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. She buried her forehead on his shoulder and let out a shaky breath. She could hear his racing heart against her ear.

"Together, Clarke," he repeated lowly, his lips ghosting against the top of her head. "You don't have to feel alone anymore. You aren't alone with this secret _._ "

For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel alone. Even when she was surrounded by people and was vulnerable, she couldn't shake this loneliness. _Because she was alone in the world._ She was alone with this secret.

Being in Bellamy's arms in that moment made her feel like she was _with_ someone. It made her feel like she wasn't so alone.

"Together."

Even if it was for one single night, it was worth it. _They were in this situation together._ Just knowing she wasn't the only one who cared about this secret anymore felt like it had lifted so much weight from her. It was freeing.

They were together with this, even if she was never going to see him again. They were in solidarity. _A team. Partners._

He was the only person in the Capitol that she trusted at that very moment. He was the only one she felt close enough to open up to about her darkest moments and her greatest fears. He was willing to take some of her pain away and to shoulder some of the burden she had been carrying for a year.

 _And he was still beside her._ Despite her demons and her secrets, he still stood by her. Even though it wasn't easy, he was there. Even though it was torturous, he was willing to accept the fact that they knew a secret that could change and save lives, yet they weren't able to do anything about it.

He stood with her. _And it was better than she had even thought it would be._

They stood like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms. The citizens of the Capitol celebrated on the streets below them, betting on who would survive the arena. The skyline flashed with blues and reds as advertisements rolled by. Their impending fate was hanging over them like a cloud.

 _But in that moment, it didn't matter._

Being in his arms was like being home. _She was safe, she was with someone, she was okay._ Her ear was pressed tightly against his chest, right over his heart. She could faintly hear the thud of each beat of his heart. She smiled to herself.

After spending a year completely alone, it was hard deciding whether the beat of someone's heart or the sound of their voice was sweeter. She couldn't decide which one was her favourite.

In that moment, it was the sound of his heart. _He was here. He was alive. He was with her._

These were her last moments with him and _it hurt_. She knew it was too late to not trust him and to not care about him. _She told herself not to care about him,_ yet she failed. She cared for him. She trusted him. She never wanted to see him hurt or lose him.

 _It was inevitable_ and part of her wanted to save that tiny piece of her soul that hadn't fallen for him. She knew caring for him would end in disaster. She knew saying goodbye would destroy her.

 _It was easier to not care at all._ Caring and losing him would be more painful than anything she had experienced before.

 _Just walk away. Just forget about him._

She couldn't.

In that moment, she was content. She was okay. She was at peace with herself and her fate. She couldn't pull away from him and pretend he wasn't an important person to her. She couldn't forget about him, pretending that all of their time together wasn't special.

While the world seemed all for pulling them apart, he stood beside her. From the moment they were born, they were never meant to meet. They were never meant to interact or trust or find this peace with each other.

But they did. _They stood together._

"Clarke?" His chest rumbled against her ear when he spoke. She nodded slightly, letting him know she was listening. "It's getting late."

Her heart dropped to her stomach and dread flooded her system.

 _This was it._

No matter how many words they said, no matter how many promises they made, no matter how much they talked about the future, she knew that it wasn't possible.

They weren't allowed the luxury of futures and dreams.

They were going into the arena tomorrow morning. _Nothing could change that._

This was the last time they would ever talk to each other. This was the last time they would get to see each other before the bloodbath. This was the last time they could truly be teenagers because as of tomorrow, they would only be tributes.

Even if they ever saw each other again by some miracle in the arena, things would never be the same. They would be on different teams. They were expected to fight each other and kill each other.

And, by that point, she knew _they_ wouldn't be the same people anymore. They would have to take the lives of other tributes just to survive. They would have to lose people that they cared about.

 _Death would change them._ She was terrified.

Her heart broke at the thought of never seeing him again – of never truly being the same with him. She had grown so close to him over the last week. She bared her soul and opened her mind to him, and he did the same in return.

 _It looked like she was going to lose Bellamy Blake as fast as she gained him._

But, like she thought, they were never really meant to be. She was just thankful they had the time that they did. _They were never meant to meet in the first place._

"I guess we should head to sleep," she agreed reluctantly.

Still, neither of them moved. They stood, wrapped in each other's arms, allowing the city to bustle beneath them.

Clarke wished that she could freeze that moment. _She wished she didn't have to say goodbye._

"Thank you." His voice sounded cracked and thick with emotions. She felt emotional at the prospect of losing him, and she could only hope that he felt the same way about their goodbye. "Clarke," he said again, his voice holding so much tenderness and so much emotion that it made her feel like she could melt. "Thank you. For everything." She pulled back and let out a wet laugh.

"I should be the one thanking you. You're the one who came to me, practically begging me to let you instruct me on how to hold a sword. All I wanted to do was punch you in the face."

Bellamy laughed. "Gods, I was a pretty big ass on the elevator, wasn't I? It was enough to make you hate me."

"You were the worst," Clarke admitted, her voice teasing. She knew Bellamy could tell it was a joke when he let out a small chuckle. She continued speaking. _She needed him to know this._ She had to get it off her chest. She couldn't die without him knowing just how much he had come to mean to her.

"You were the one to come help me on the roof when the Careers were after me, and you helped save my dad's watch. You were the one to make me laugh for the first time in a year. _You realize that, right?_ Since my dad died, I have been completely alone. _You_ were the first one to make me feel like I belonged somewhere. You were the first one to make me feel like I wasn't alone anymore." She curled her fingers into the back of his shirt, bunching up the material in her fists. Her heart ached at the idea of letting go. "Thank _you_ , Bellamy. For everything."

"Before you, my whole world was Octavia. She was everything to me, and she was the only thing I cared about. _I came for her_. I came to die for her. But – I met you." He wet his lips. "Somehow, I care about you, Clarke. I don't know how it happened – I spent my whole life focused on one person, how did it change to include you?" He shook his head. "I don't care how it happened, because my life is better with you in it. It's brighter. It's funnier. I'm happy to share any burden with you, whether that be big or small. And even though we only had a short time together, I'm _happy_ I got to meet you. I didn't lie about that in my interview earlier. I'm thankful that we got a week of happiness and peace before the arena. I'm thankful I got to meet you."

Bellamy pulled his cheek away from resting on her head and she pulled away from his chest. She locked eyes with him, an inexplicable feeling coming over her. _She never wanted to look away form his eyes._ All she wanted was to trace the constellations of freckles on his cheeks. All she wanted was to be beside him, wrapped in his arms like she was in that moment.

Before she could think, he was moving forward. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head tilted up slightly. She could taste his breath on her tongue and feel the warmth radiating off of him. His hands pressed gently into her back, bringing her body flush against his once again.

Just as their lips were about to connect, she stopped. She was frozen to the ground in that moment, suddenly too heavy to move.

They stood there, their lips millimeters apart, breathing heavily. He didn't close the gap between them and neither did she.

It was torture. _All she wanted to do was kiss him in that moment._ She could have that, couldn't she? Couldn't she just have one kiss before the arena? She wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone she cared so much about before she died.

 _Then why was she holding back? Why was she not moving to meet him?_

"We can't," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse and broken. She felt like she was on the verge of tears again. "I can't." _I can't let myself fall for you. I can't give my all to you._ Even though she wanted to, she knew she couldn't.

 _This was goodbye._ And even though she knew this was it, she couldn't move to kiss him. _She couldn't._ She knew that one kiss would be the tipping point for her. She knew that _one kiss_ would be all that it would take to make her fall for him even more than she already had.

Losing him after that would be so much worse.

Bellamy nodded and pulled back quickly. His arms dropped from her body, leaving her missing his body warmth. He smiled at her, but it never reached his eyes. She knew that she probably looked just as disappointed.

But she couldn't do this. She couldn't love him.

"I know," he agreed. "We shouldn't."

They stared at each other for a long moment. While she knew she should've been taking that time to be memorizing his details, all she could think about was pressing her lips to his.

 _They shouldn't, but she wanted to._

Finally, after he didn't move, she shrugged off his sweater. Something as simple as that made her heart tug in pain.

 _This was it. This was the end._

She handed it to him. As he took it, his fingers lingered on hers. It took every once of her strength not to grab his hand with hers.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it," she said.

Without it on, she felt even more alone. Even with his arms not around her body, she at least had the sweater. _Now, she felt completely bare_. It was a physical reminder that their time spent together was coming to a close.

It was painful to think about the fact that their time together was almost not real. Nobody knew how much she cared about him. And, in the end, nothing changed. She would still die. _And nothing could stop that._

Their time together felt like it existed outside of reality. Having to come back to the real world was soul crushing.

"Good luck, Bellamy."

"We'll meet again," he promised her.

They locked eyes. This time, she tried to memorize the exact shade of brown. She tried to remember how the scar on his lip was positioned just off-centre, and how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and how his hair hung in his eyes when he looked down.

She could feel her heart breaking over and over inside of her chest. She knew he was trying to make the goodbye easier by promises, but it was painful. _She knew they were just words. She knew his promises were empty._ They wouldn't be able to see each other again.

 _This was it._ Their last conversation. Their last moment together.

"I hope so. One day. Maybe in another life," she offered. He smiled grimily.

"Maybe in the stars?" he said, calling back to their conversation from earlier. _That was their imagined futures. A life in the stars, away from all the chaos of Panem, away from all of the death that came with the ground._

"In the stars," she agreed.

"Good luck, princess." The nickname he gave her acted like salt in her wounds. It took everything in her not to cry.

Another beat of silence passed.

 _It won't get any easier,_ she told herself. _Walk away. Just walk away._

This time, she listened to her thoughts.

"Goodbye, Bellamy."

"Goodbye."

She knew that if she didn't leave at that moment, she wouldn't be able to later. Every second that passed made her want to stay. Every second being around him made her want to jump back into his arms.

 _So she left._

She turned around and walked across the roof. She was so tempted to check to see if he was watching her, but she couldn't. She didn't want him to see the tears already flowing down her cheeks.

She promised herself she wouldn't get attached. She told herself not to trust anyone.

 _But she did._

 _She cared about Bellamy Blake and it hurt._

Saying goodbye to him felt like it tore a piece of her soul. _Because that's what he was_ – he somehow managed to become a part of her soul within the last week.

They were constantly surrounded by darkness and death, _but he wasn't_. He was a bright light in the middle of all that. When she thought there couldn't possibly be friendship and partnership and understanding, he gave that to her. She found someone she could trust and care about in the most unlikely place.

It broke her heart to leave him standing on the roof. _But she had to._ She climbed the vines back to her room, her vision blurring from the tears that she refused to let fall.

 _She never looked back._

Once she got into her room, she pulled her window shut and let out a tiny sob, her head falling to her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, begging her mind to stop reeling, begging her tears to stop falling.

She cared about him. _She hoped it wasn't just her mind that made her think he cared about her too._ The way he always made sure she was okay, the way he made her laugh with silly jokes and goofy faces, the way he held her when she needed comfort, the way he listened to her, the way he opened up. He was where she felt safe. _He felt like home._

And she would never see him again. The next time she would see his face, it would be while it was in the sky. That is, _if he died first_. If she was the first to die in the arena, she never would see him again.

She didn't know which fate she wanted more. She was terrified by the prospect that every cannon she heard while in the arena could be his.

But she was also terrified that they almost kissed.

She sunk onto the bed a few feet away from the windowsill. She could see a letter addressed to her sitting on her pillow in Wells' messy handwriting, but she couldn't bring herself to care in that moment. Her mind was filled with enough demons already, she didn't have time to think about theirs.

She pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.

She could still feel his warmth all along her body. Even though the air outside had been humid and warm, there was something different about his warmth. From being alone without any physical contact with anyone caring for a year, she began to appreciate how much the little touches meant. The bump of their shoulders when they joked, the brush of their fingertips when he wanted to bring her comfort. Even when he was training her how to fight, his arms that were curled around her felt better than she could've imagined.

Every fiber of her being wanted to be wrapped in his arms again, even for just a moment longer. Even though she knew it was irrational, she couldn't shake the thought that she wouldn't be touched by anyone loving again before she died.

 _She felt so crushingly alone, even though she knew she wasn't._ She would have her allies with her.

 _She wished he was her ally._

She could still feel his soft breaths on her face. His breath smelt strongly of peppermint from the Capitol issued toothpaste they were all using. _All she wanted was to taste it on her lips._ She wanted to share one more thing with him before they died.

But she didn't. _She couldn't_. She couldn't do that to herself, or to him. They weren't meant to be partners. They weren't met to be friends. They weren't meant to be anything more than tributes.

 _They weren't meant to be._

He must've been thinking the same things, as he didn't close the distance either when their lips were millimeters apart. She could feel his hesitation in that moment. _They both knew that it was futile._

She would've given anything to turn back the clock five minutes, just to close that gap. Just to kiss him once, to see what could've been. She wanted to share that one thing more with him, even if they both knew nothing else could come from it. She wanted to kiss him, even if she knew it would just bring her more pain.

 _But she knew she couldn't turn back time._ If she could, she would've done that long ago with her father.

She wanted to kiss Bellamy – she wanted to take back one thing from the Capitol. _They dictated their lives._ They dictated who they would meet. They limited contact across Panem, between the districts. And because of that, Bellamy and Clarke were never supposed to meet. They never were supposed to see each other.

 _But they did._

And she so desperately wanted to kiss him. To show herself that the Capitol didn't spin their fates. She wanted to prove time and time again that they made their own fates. She wanted to prove that, no matter what the Capitol did, people from across the country could still care for each other. _And, most importantly, she wanted to kiss him because he made her feel alive._

He made her feel like nothing ever had before. He brought he light when she didn't think anything could. She trusted him above all other. He had become a support for her – training her, comforting her, listening to her.

 _He made her feel human._

Clarke should've kissed him. She shouldn't have hesitated. She cared for him, and she could feel that he cared for her too.

It broke her heart to think that if they had more time, she could've seen herself with him. She could've seen herself working together – leading together. She could've seen herself by his side, working to build a better future. He wanted what was best for his family, but she could sense that he wanted a fair country too; something better for all of the people. _That's what she wanted._

If they had more time, she wouldn't have run. She wouldn't have been so hesitant to trust him or care for him. _She could've fallen in love with him_. Maybe she could've, if they had a different life. _If they were just people, not tributes. If they were just Clarke and Bellamy, not leaders. If they were just human, not sacrifices._

She took a few steadying breaths. It was a nice thought, but it wasn't the reality.

Reality was that they _were_ tributes. They _were_ sacrifices for the Capitol's greater good. They had their own priorities which didn't include the other. No matter how much her heart told her to go to him, _she knew she couldn't_.

It would only end in tragedy. He would die. She would die. They would only get days together, if lucky.

 _It was time to put Bellamy Blake out of her head._

t was up to her to lead her pack. It was up to her to make them a family in the arena. It was up to her to get her friends as close to victory as possible.

While it had been her happiest days in a long while, she had to try and forget them.

 _No distractions._

 _No fantasies._

 _Only cold, harsh reality._

And reality said she was a tribute.

Reality was she was going to the Games tomorrow.

Reality was, she could never be with Bellamy Blake.

Several floors below Clarke, Bellamy sat on his bed. He held a pen in his hand and scribbled furiously on a piece of a page ripped from the book in his bag. On one side, it read the end of a Greek myth. _Tragedy, death, heartbreak, and failure._ On the back, Bellamy scrawled our a hastily written note.

He hoped it wouldn't be like the story on the front of the page. He hoped that whatever he wrote wouldn't end in tragedy.

 _Tomorrow, we head into the arena. We head to our supposed deaths. Only one of us has the potential to come out alive - as Victor._

 _But you already knew that._

 _Let me tell you something you don't know._

* * *

 **There's a lot in this chapter haha. Clarke's realizing she's falling for Bellamy, but she can't allow herself to do so. Clarke and Bellamy _almost_ kissed. And they said goodbye. UHM ALSO BELLAMY NOW KNOWS EVERYTHING. WOW. Busy, busy chapter.**

 **It's amazing to think that this chapter is the final chapter of the first portion of this fic (finally)! Chapter 20 marks the start of the second portion of the fic, which is the arena. That being said, from now on, the chapters will become a lot more violent. Please keep this in mind. I'll give more details at the start of chapter 20, but I just wanted to make you all aware!**

 **Side note: this chapter was originally drafted to be Bellamy and Clarke's first kiss but I felt like it was rushed? Past Paw, why did you think that? We're already in 150k words haha.**


	20. Chapter 20: In a Concrete Jungle

**I forgot to say... Happy 2019!**

 **I'm just one big softie, so this chapter is honestly really cool for me. I talked about it a little bit in my notes in the last chapter, but ! This chapter is the start of the arena (finally)! This chapter signifies the start of the second portion of the fic!**

 **Wow. So, so cool. But also terrifying.**

 **Warnings: _Other than chapter number 1, this is probably my most important note about warnings._** This chapter is really the first chapter with a lot of violence. My writing goal was to limit the scenes/descriptions of violence to similar situations shown in either The Hunger Games or The 100... I've tried really hard to make sure the scenes of violence won't exceed what was shown on screen in either fandom.

Please note that this fic is still rated teen (as this is the rating given to both the show and the movie series). If anyone has any concerns about this (or disagreements about my rating), please contact me. If you don't feel comfortable doing it in the reviews, you can always reach out to me via Twitter (Pawprinter1) or Tumblr (pawprinterfanfic – ps, I have anonymous asks on here, so you can contact me completely anonymously about this if that makes you more comfortable).

 **I know violence can be a sensitive subject to some people, which is why I'm trying to make this very clear and establish a firm baseline.**

 **To sum it up, this chapter is the start of the arena, which means there will be more violence and more gore present here on out. I've tried my best to keep this consistent to the level of violence/gore in canon. If anyone wants to discuss this, feel free to reach out.**

 **Once again, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. It's a little long (13k words) so I really apologize for that.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **In a Concrete Jungle**

* * *

That morning, both Bellamy and Clarke clutched their letters while standing in the drop zone. Even though they were across the arena from each other, they still managed to be in sync.

Clarke had the letter from Wells tucked tightly under her watch from her dad, practically glued to her skin. It had been folding many times over so it would be small enough to be slipped into the arena unnoticed.

Across the arena, Bellamy had his letter tucked into the waist band of his pants, the tiniest corner poking out from his waist. He mindlessly pulled on the black jacket that the Capitol provided, watching the Peackeepers closely, examining their every action and every choice.

One Peacekeeper had the stripes to signify his higher rank than the other two. It was a small victory, but Bellamy would take it. _Who knows how many more victories he would be getting within the next two weeks._

His eyes swept over the room, looking for anything he could use if this thing went sideways. Of course, there was nothing but the bare walls. He patted his pocket to feel for his token. In the worst case scenario, he could work with that.

 _He only had one chance to get this right._

Bellamy adverted his eyes when the higher ranking Peacekeeper turned to look at him. He couldn't be caught staring at them so intensely; that would be a recipe for something worse to happen.

He waited until the Peacekeeper turned back to the other two by the entrance of the drop zone.

 _Now. Do it now._

As soon as all eyes were off of him, he moved like a spring, jumping immediately into action. He stalked towards the Peacekeeper, his one hand freeing the letter from his band. His eyes were locked on the three Peacekeepers, his senses tuned into their hand placement and their weapons.

At hearing his movements, the higher ranking Peacekeeper spun around, his hand moving for his weapon. "Hold!" The Peacekeeper raised his gun and pointed it directly at his chest, making Bellamy freeze. With baited breath, he watched the other two Peacekeepers slip out of the room, going for reinforcements, no doubt.

Bellamy raised his arms above his head, showing he had no weapons and meant no harm. _Comply and live. Comply and live._

"Hands on your head, 2," he barked. Bellamy slowly moved his hands to place them on top of his hand, his letter still clutched in his left hand. "Drop it."

"It's a letter," he said, his voice strong. "Just a piece of paper."

"Drop it. It isn't cleared to be in this room." Bellamy's lips curled back. _Of course a piece of paper wouldn't be cleared to be in the room._

"I have a letter I need you to deliver," Bellamy spoke slowly and evenly.

The Peacekeeper didn't respond. The room was filled with Bellamy's rapid breathing. After three seconds of complete silence, the Peacekeeper lowered their gun, slipping it back into his holster on his waist. Bellamy let out the tiny breath he was holding, feeling relief wash over him.

The Peacekeeper stepped forward, snatching the piece of paper from Bellamy's hand on top of his head. Bellamy stumbled backwards as they shoved him roughly with their shoulder. His hand curled into a fist and he wanted nothing more than to quip at him.

"Watch it, asshole," he snapped. The Peacekeeper spun around and slammed his fist roughly into Bellamy's gut. He doubled over, his eyes wide and gasping for breath. He tilted his head just in time to see the Peacekeeper's hands moving to rip the paper. "Don't," he rasped. "It's important." They let out a dark chuckle and contracted their fist, crumpling the letter. They both sneered at each other. "Let's try this one more time. _It's important_."

Meanwhile, across the arena, Clarke was having troubles of her own with the Peacekeeper.

Her knees were bent and her feet wide, effectively planting herself to the ground. The Peacekeeper was mere feet away from her, but he was already reaching around towards her wrist.

"No!" she snapped, taking a step to put more distance between them. "They said I could bring it with me!" she insisted, her voice heated. She had her hand clamped over her wrist, effectively trapping the watch against her body. Her body was shaking and her voice was close to breaking. "They approved it! _They approved it!_ "

 _Of course,_ she thought to herself. They would be taking this away from her. After all, she wasn't ever a normal tribute. They would never let her have the comfort of home or the comfort of a traitor.

 _Kane, where are you?_

"We don't have it on our records." The Peacekeeper made another step towards Clarke. She mirrored him and took a step backwards, shaking her head. Her heart was racing and her head was spinning.

 _Please don't take him away from me._

"No!" She was growing slightly hysterical at the thought of losing the last thing of her father's. _When she died, she wanted to feel close to him._ This was the last piece of her father - the last piece of her home. She wasn't going to give it up without a fight.

"District 6," his voice was sharp and lethal. It made Clarke's blood run cold. She had heard this many times before. "You are _out of line._ You-"

"That's enough," Kane insisted sharply, jogging back into the room. He quickly stepped in between Clarke and the Peacekeeper, effectively shielding her. As soon as she did, the tension bled out from her, leaving her shaking.

As soon as the confrontation broke out between Clarke and the Peacekeeper, he went running to get the confirmation papers he left in his bag at the front of the tunnel that lead into the arena. _They had the approval._

He held up the package from earlier in the week and shoved it towards the looming Peacekeeper. "See? It's been approved. You can't take it away from her."

While the Peacekeeper scanned the document, Kane partially turned to face Clarke. She felt like she was about to get sick. _She was terrified and angry and so lost._ Her breathing was rapidly and her limbs felt numb.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to glance away from the Peacekeeper and focus on him. Just that tiny human contact was enough to break her from her thoughts. "Are you okay?" She nodded stiffly, slowly coming back down to earth. "It'll be fine," he promised her. She nodded again, but she didn't believe him.

 _Nothing was fine._

Her eyes drifted to the far corner of the room, where the clock showing the countdown sat. _Only three minutes until she was going into the arena._ Only three minutes left of her life.

She suddenly felt too sick for words. They were trying to take the last thing in her life of her father. _They were sending her into the arena._ What more did they want from her? What more could she pay?

 _They didn't just want her life._ They wanted her heart and soul, first.

Clarke couldn't peel her eyes away from the ticking clock in the corner. Every second that passed meant she was _that much closer_ to going into the arena. She was minutes away from charging right into the bloodbath.

 _This could very well be one of her final moments._

After this, she would either be dead or a different person.

"You gotta keep calm," Kane told her quietly, sensing her panic. "This is what they do. Remember what I told you when we first met?" He tapped his head and cocked an eyebrow. He told her they would try to get in her head and unsettle her. He told her that they would try to break her before they even got into the arena. _He was right._ This wasn't just about surviving the arena; it was about surviving the Capitol. He squeezed her shoulders when she nodded numbly. "Good. Stay calm. I'll talk to them."

Even though her mind was racing, she didn't let any of that show on her face. She forced her panic back and locked her emotions away. _This wasn't the time._ She couldn't let her mind be foggy or clouded with panic and emotions.

 _She had to survive._

Her knees felt weak, like they could cave in at anytime. Her hands shook from the adrenaline and the fear.

Clarke closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. _She had to calm down._ She had to reduce the adrenaline in her system. She knew it was part of her fight or flight response – it was just biology – but she knew her mind would be clearer if she didn't have it.

Adrenaline made people make stupid decisions and that was something she couldn't afford to do. As soon as she got out there, she had to be as sharp as ever. She had to make sure every choice she made was the correct one.

 _Because, if it wasn't, she would die._

She turned away from the Peacekeeper and Kane, who were getting into a heated discussion. She couldn't let them distract her. She couldn't let the Peacekeeper get under her skin or shake her confidence.

She faced the platform several feet in front of her, her eyes locked on the glass chamber. It reminded her of a coffin, which was fitting in a cruel and disturbing way. Without thinking, her fingers ran over the swelling in her arm from where a tracker was inserted. While it didn't exactly hurt, it wasn't the most comfortable she had ever been either.

She glanced over her shoulder, focusing on the clock once again. For a brief moment, her heart jumped as she read the time. _Two minutes remaining._ She allowed herself one more second of panic before she turned her attention back to the tube.

She needed to focus. She needed to get her mind in the game.

In under two minutes, she would step into the tube and she would be raised above to the arena. One minute after that, the buzzer would go off and she would be running into a bloodbath.

 _In only three minutes she could either be dead or a murderer._

She shook her head and closed her eyes.

 _Focus. Focus._

She ran over the plan one more time. It felt like that was all she had thought about over the last several hours.

Locate Charlotte's platform. Locate Monty and Murphy. When the buzzer went off, run for the Cornucopia and pick up _whatever_ she could. _Anything would be better than nothing._ Meet up with Monty and Murphy. Work as a team. Move-

Kane's hand being placed on her shoulder startled her. She jumped, her eyes flying open, and her heart rate skyrocketing. _She was so jumpy._ She couldn't help it; the adrenaline had been running through her system since the previous night. Once again, she barely slept. She turned to him, her eyes wide and frightened.

"I'll let this go this time," the Peacekeeper announced.

"As you should," Kane pointed out, his tone holding authority that was unfamiliar Clarke. Whenever he spoke to her, he was so kind. _But to others…_ He was a diplomat. "Those papers were approved _days_ ago."

Without another word, the Peacekeeper turned stiffly and walked to the entrance of the room, his back to them. Clarke didn't dare glance at him. All she could do in that moment was look at Kane, feeling desperate.

She needed a mentor and a guide right now. She needed someone to tell her things would be okay, even if she knew it was a lie.

She needed the bliss that came with ignorance in that moment.

 _She needed hope._

"You're good to go. It was a misunderstanding." His lips were thin and his voice was stressed. He clearly didn't believe a word that the Peacekeepers told him. He did not look impressed by their actions.

"Thank you."

Kane glanced at the clock, his face growing tighter. Clarke didn't allow her gaze to travel across the room. She knew that if she seen the time, she would be petrified.

He let out a long breath. "Let's get you in the chamber. It won't be long now."

Clarke moved mindlessly, stepping into the glass tube. Instantly, her breathing was amplified and she could've sworn she heard her heart beating. She looked up, hoping to catching sight of the environment she as about to enter.

 _Dammit._ The opening was still sealed so she couldn't see anything. She swallowed thickly and turned back to Kane.

She knew time was ticking away, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. She stared at him for what felt like minutes, wishing that this wasn't the last time she would see him. While they weren't close, he was part of her home. Saying goodbye to him was like saying goodbye to her district.

"If I die, tell my mom that I'm sorry," she said suddenly and desperately. The sudden urge to tie all loose strings overcame her. She couldn't feel any other emotion other than desperation in that moment. _She wasn't scared. She wasn't sad._ She was just numb. "Just... tell her. Please."

Kane nodded stiffly. "I will," he promised her. "But you aren't going to die, Clarke. I'll be doing everything on my end to help you." He gave her a thin smile. She felt a spark of hope at his words. Maybe it was easier to believe that she had a chance. It sure felt like it, anyways. "You'll be okay, Clarke." She smiled back.

"Thank you, Kane," she said.

"You're a good person, Clarke. You'll be okay."

Her heart panged. "I hope you don't judge me too harshly by my actions in the arena." She knew what she would have to do once she got in there. _Would he still think she was a good person when he saw the monster she was about to become?_

"What you do in there…" He pressed his lips tightly together. "Who you want to be doesn't always win in there, Clarke. I know. I've been there." His eyes looked tortured in that moment and Clarke was beginning to understand why. _He had done things in the arena he wasn't proud about either._ "Survive first. Then you can learn to live with yourself again."

With those final words of wisdom, the door began to shut. She felt her heart leap into her throat. Fear flooded her system.

"Lead them. They'll need you," Kane reminded her, his voice taking on a frantic edge. "You can do it. Stay calm and confident. You have the sk-" The door shut completely, blocking all sounds coming from outside. _Kane never got to finish his sentence._

Knowing she couldn't hear anymore, he nodded sharply, his face turning to stone. Clarke mirrored his actions.

She swallowed thickly and tried to refocus herself. _Stay sharp. Be smart. Make good choices._

The sounds of her heartbeat and her breathing were almost unbearable when she was enclosed completely in the tube. She tried to keep her nerves back, knowing they would only cause her to make mistakes out there.

She could see there were still ten more seconds until she was lifted into the arena. Ten seconds of complete isolation.

 _It made her skin crawl._

She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her fists. Under her breath, she muttered the instructions Bellamy had passed on to her. At this point, the words were almost second nature to her, she had thought of them so many times over the last week. She hoped holding a sword would come just as easily.

 _Focus. Focus._

The plan. What was the plan?

Locate Charlotte.

Locate Murphy and Monty.

Run.

 _Survive._

The platform started to rise, abruptly cutting off all of her coherent thoughts. Her eyes flew open and her hands flew out to steady herself on the sides of the glass tube. She locked eyes with Kane one last time.

 _Then she was gone._

She pushed her fear down and focused on the _tiny_ piece of hope inside of her. She would need it if she was going to live through the day. She focused on the strength inside of her; that was the thing that kept her going her whole time in lock-up and she knew she would be needing it now more than ever. She focused on the person Kane had built her to be; a leader, resilient, strong, confident, knowledgeable.

As she entered the arena, the sun shone directly in her eyes. She flinched and lifted her hand up to block it. She closed her eyes and looked downwards, willing the spots to fade from her vision. She felt _cold_ but she could feel the humidity in the air.

As soon as her vision cleared, she squinted her eyes and looked out into the arena. Her mouth ran completely dry and she felt like her throat was tight.

She was standing in the middle of an abandoned city. _That was the arena?_ An abandoned city?

Buildings were everywhere, covered in cracks and vines. She could see the interior of many of them, from gods only know what that helped destroy them. The rose tall, blocking most of the sun from reaching where she stood. Rubble lined the streets from where some buildings collapsed completely. Large chunks of cement were laying around the ground, the rusted rebar sticking out in every direction.

The ground was once pavement, but had been taken back over by grass and weeds. She doubted it would be soft to run on and she dreaded having to fall in it. She could already imagine how the long blades of grass would cut her ankles as she ran into the Cornucopia.

Clarke's head swiveled around again. All twenty-four of the tributes were positioned in a large ring around the Cornucopia. Within the circle they made, no buildings stood and no rubble was present. It was just the tributes, the golden Cornucopia, and the survival items.

She guessed that it must've been a city centre before the Cornucopia and tribute platforms were placed there. She could almost imagine that this used to be a meeting place for whoever was meant to have lived in the city.

Clarke couldn't see anything except buildings all around her. They reached towards the sky, effectively cutting off her view of the rest of the arena. She knew there had to be more out there than just the city centre. _There had to be._ The past arenas were huge – why did this one seem so small?

No. They wouldn't put them into a gladiator ring to fight. _There had to be a way out._

She scanned the buildings in the ring around the city centre, her eye searching for a way out. Tiny passages and streets spread from the Cornucopia in all different directions, giving her dozens of paths to choose to run out of. They were hidden between buildings, making them nearly impossible to find.

 _Kids were going to be trapped._ They wouldn't know where to run. They wouldn't know where to go.

It felt like cold hands had gripped her heart in that moment. She shook her head, trying to clear all of the thoughts.

 _She couldn't think._ She had to focus.

The clock had already hit 30 seconds. She only had half a minute to locate her team and get ready to run. _Shit._ Time was going by too fast.

She scanned the around her for Charlotte. With every tribute around her that wasn't Charlotte, her heart started to beat a little faster. Time was ticking by too quickly.

 _What would she do if she couldn't find her?_ Would she be lost? Would she be isolated from her alliance?

 _Shit. Focus._

Clarke continued scanning the faces around her. Relief ran through her as soon as she managed to catch sight of the young girl. She looked so small being in the arena – smaller than she had ever looked before. While she was more than six platforms away from her, Clarke could tell she was terrified.

Her body was absolutely stiff, her hands pressed tightly into the seam of her pants. She looked petrified, completely unable to move.

Clarke swore. She was freezing up. She was so scared that she wouldn't be able to move. She hoped Lincoln was close by and could get to her soon. She was terrified to think about what would happen to her if she was left alone.

Her eyes scanned through the platforms again, seeking anyone on her team. _She needed to find Monty and Murphy._ They needed to meet up and run into the bloodbath together.

Her eyes kept jumping from face to face, fear clawing its way along her back. Even though the air was hot, the hairs on her arm stood upright and she had goose bumps blossoming across her skin.

 _She couldn't find them._

Oh, gods, she couldn't find them.

A loud gong began ringing as the final ten seconds approached. Clarke swore again, her fists clenching by her sides. She had never felt so much panic and dread before in her life.

 _She still hadn't found them._

8 seconds.

She tried to search again. She was almost getting dizzy by how fast her head was turning, searching the tributes lined up.

5 seconds.

 _Dammit._

She couldn't find them and she was running out of time. _She was out of time._

Clarke peeled her eyes away from the faces of the tributes and looked at the mouth of the Cornucopia, her heart heavy. She had to give up looking for them and spend her last remaining seconds on surveying the Cornucopia.

Backpacks were spread all along the ground between the tribute platforms and the mouth of the Cornucopia, which was to be expected. She knew for a fact that whatever was closest to the outskirts of the ring wouldn't be the good stuff. To get to the best weapons, she would have to make her way to the main funnel of the Cornucopia. _That's_ where she would find the things she needed; swords, knives, spears, bows.

Clarke lowered herself into a crouched position, her eyes locked on the golden metal. She would have to stick with their constructed plan, but she would have to do it alone. She just hoped she could find her alliance after she was done collecting weapons.

 _The buzzer went off._

Without wasting a second, she jumped off her platform, landing roughly on the cement beneath her. She took off sprinting towards the Cornucopia, her eyes scanning the weapons inside. She could see dozens of swords near the front, making it an easy grab.

Her eyes caught sight of a backpack that would be a few feet from her current path. Deciding it wouldn't slow her down too much, she changed her path the slightest bit. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see another tribute running in the same direction she was – it was the girl from District 9, if she wasn't mistaken.

They were both headed to the same backpack. Clarke swore and picked up her pace, desperate to get to it first. She couldn't meet District 9's path. She couldn't get into conflict this early on in the bloodbath.

Clarke scooped the backpack off the ground and slung it on her back, all without stopping. She didn't risk looking back to see where District 9 was. She knew looking behind her would only slow her down.

Slowing down meant death.

 _She had to make it to the mouth. She had to get a weapon. Make it to the_ _Cornucopia. Make it to the Cornucopia._

Clarke tried to ignore the ear-piecing sounds coming from around her. The sounds of screaming children had filled the air. She could taste the metal in her mouth.

 _Blood. She could taste blood._

Was it from her? Did she bite her lip?

With a start, Clarke realized it was because she was _surrounded_ by blood. She jumped over a body lying in the grass, her heart completely stopping at the sight. She wanted to scream, but she forced her lips shut. _It would only call attention to herself._

She had already run past the body when she realized she didn't see a face. _Who was that?_

Her gaze swept all around her, looking for any threats. Someone must've already found a weapon. Somebody must've been close by to her. _Dammit._ It had only been 20 seconds since the start of the Games and people were already dead or dying.

Seeing nobody around her, she turned back to face the Cornucopia and continued sprinting. She scooped up another backpack and clipped it to the side of the other. Every step she took sent it crashing into the back of her legs, but she knew they would need supplies. She would just have to work with it.

She could see tributes running in every direction, but she couldn't see anyone she knew. _Where was her allies? Where was Monty and Murphy?_

She glanced towards to Cornucopia again. Nobody had managed to make it all the way there yet. Tributes were attacking each other before they could get all the way there.

 _Dammit._ This wasn't going to work. Her plan had already gone to hell and it was less than a minute into the Games.

Still, she needed weapons. All she had were two relatively empty backpacks. _She couldn't survive off that._ Nobody could.

And her team was counting on her.

She changed course the slightest bit, deciding she would at least attempt to pick up the knife set lying in the grass only a few feet away from her. Raven and Murphy both needed knives. Plus, _anything_ would be better than what she had in that moment.

Clarke sprinted towards the knives. The closest tribute was the girl from District 5 – Echo. She was running in the opposite direction Clarke was, her face darkened and intense. Blood was splattered across her face. She assumed it had something to do with the bow held in her hands and the quiver strapped to her back.

Luckily, their paths weren't going to cross. Somehow, even if she managed to get the knife set, she doubted she would be able to fight Echo and win in that moment. She needed a sword to even stand a chance.

She heard screaming. The boy from District 7 fighting with the boy from District 12. They were moving so quickly that she couldn't tell who was winning or losing.

Then, her hand felt like it had caught on fire.

She caught herself on the ground, the pavement scraping harshly against the palm of her hand. She could feel her jacket tear from the impact. She was stretched across the ground, gasping for air. Her vision swam. Her head spun.

She knew she didn't have time to wonder how the hell she ended up there. Someone had pushed her to the ground. _Someone was trying to kill her._

Clarke spun onto her back, ignoring the way the world tilted around her as she moved. The girl from District 9 stood above her. She looked panicked, but determined. _She didn't look like a killer. She just looked like a desperate soul._

Clarke's eyes were drawn to the knife in her hands. She knew she was seconds away from getting hit with it.

In that moment, Clarke remembered what Bellamy told her. It was _his_ voice that came flooding back to her in a moment of crisis.

 _Look for a weakness._

The girl was standing more heavily on her left leg, taking pressure off of her right ankle. She injured her foot sometime during the chaos of the bloodbath. She wasn't too sure if she felt it yet because of the adrenaline, but she could tell that her posture of was off. She was putting too much of her weight of her left leg, which threw her off balance.

Before she had time to process the information, Clarke was moving. With a grunt, she kicked her right ankle with all of her might. The girl let out a blood curdling scream as she stumbled away from Clarke, the knife falling from her grip.

She pushed off the ground, using her momentum to kick out her right leg from under her, sending her crashing to the ground. Before the girl hit the pavement, Clarke was moving again.

There was no time to process what she did to another teenager in that moment. _She did what she had to for survival._ There was no time to process just how close she was to death.

 _No time, no time, no time._

Clarke was sprinting in the direction of the Cornucopia, once again focused on her need to get weapons and resources.

A few feet away, something glinted in the grass. Clarke veered off path the slightest bit and picked it up, slowing down the slightest bit to grab it. She turned it over a few times in her hands, feeling happy when she realized it was a small set of knives. It must've been the same ones she had seen before she was disoriented by District 9.

She slipped one out of the cover and stuffed the rest in her jacket pocket. She was terrible at throwing them, but at least they were a weapon. Murphy and Raven could fight about them later. _If she ever found them again._

Clarke pushed that thought out of her mind. She was startled to see tributes swarming the Cornucopia. The screaming was getting louder. _There was so much death. So much pain. So-_

" _Move_!"

For the second time in under a minute, she was thrown to the ground. She landed roughly, her arm scraping against the pavement, tearing her jacket further. This time, a warm body landed on top of her with a grunt, their hand protecting her head from hitting the ground again.

Clarke's knife was clutched in her hand, but she couldn't use it. Whoever landed on top of her had managed to trap her arm to the ground, preventing her from using it.

She trashed in their grip, desperate to fight them off. She lifted her knee to blindly kick whoever was on her back, but she froze when she heard their voice.

"Shit. Griffin. It's me." He got off of her, allowing her to move again. She spun around, surprised to see that it was _John freaking Murphy_ on top of her.

"Murphy!" She gasped. Why did he tackle her to the ground? "Wha-"

The words died in her mouth when she caught realized that blood was pouring onto the pavement beside her. She instantly thought the worst and turned to look at him, her eyes wide.

 _Please don't die, please don't die, please don't die._

Then she seen it. He was clutching his upper arm, a look of pain on his face. Blood was seeping from between his fingers where an arrow had been lodged into his arm.

"I told you I'd have your back," he grunted, grimacing with pain.

Clarke realized with a jolt that he had _pushed her out of the way_ of an arrow. The end was sticking out of his arm, blood running down the shaft. Before she could comment, he snapped the wood frame just above the arrowhead.

 _He saved her._ Clarke looked at him, her eyes wide.

He was already climbing off the ground, his fingers pressed tightly into his wound to stop the bleeding.

"No time," he urged. "Let's move, princess."

That seemed to snap Clarke out of the spell she was under. She scrambled up from the ground, moving to stand beside her unlikely saviour.

"Monty?" she asked Murphy, her heart sinking when she realized he wasn't with Murphy.

 _Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead._

"I'm here," a second body slipped up beside her. He was breathless and was covered in blood, but he looked unharmed.

Monty shoved a sword in her direction and clipped his backpack around his front. The sword was still wrapped in its leather holster. She took it without question and clipped it around her waist.

"We have to get out of here." Monty said. Clarke agreed – they were standing in the middle of the bloodbath as completely open target. Monty's face twisted as he turned to Clarke. "The Careers..." He didn't say anymore, but Clarke got the picture. _The Careers were here._ As always, the Careers were ruling the bloodbath.

Murphy took off running back to where he spotted the rest of their group and Clarke followed him without hesitation. During the bloodbath, she became disoriented and she couldn't begin to guess where Charlotte's platform was.

Clarke could hear screams behind her. _They were children begging for their lives_. She could hear them crying with pain, they were taking their final breaths. It took every piece of her will to not turn back to try and save them. _She had trained for moments like these, to provide medical care to those that needed it. She knew she could help._

But she couldn't.

This was the Hunger Games. It wasn't just her she would be risking - she would be risking her entire team. She had allies to care for now.

As soon as Murphy began leading her in the right direction, Clarke seen her group of allies. Charlotte was crouched low to the ground, her face stained with tears. Lincoln stood in front of her, shielding her from the violent bloodbath.

Lincoln managed to find a knife among the items scattered between his pedestal and Charlotte's and he currently clutched it in his hands, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him.

Raven stood off to the side, her back to the field. At first, Clarke thought she was talking to Charlotte, since she was facing someone behind Lincoln and talking frantically. _But no, that couldn't be right._ She was staring at something much taller than Charlotte was in that moment and she looked _angry._

It couldn't have been Murphy that Raven was talking to, since he was beside her, and he was the only tribute Raven would've been yelling at that came to mind.

"Someone's there," Clarke commented. Monty's head instantly snapped towards the remaining half of their alliance. Murphy didn't comment. He merely let out a grunt.

Lincoln's eyes passed over the three of them, the tension in his shoulders lifting the slightest bit. He turned his head slightly and said something, presumably telling the others that they were returning.

When he stepped out of the way as he readied himself and Charlotte to run, she seen him.

 _Wells._

Clarke's heart completely stopped in her chest and she was filled with a burning anger that she hadn't felt towards him in a while. If she wasn't already filled with dread, she knew the sight of Wells standing with her allies would've done it for her.

Raven turned towards the approaching group, her face twisted in discomfort and her arms crossed. Clearly, she didn't look too impressed by the fact Wells was beside her.

Clarke was fuming. Who in the hell did he think he was, just strolling up to her alliance in the middle of the arena? _What the hell, Wells._ Just because she had been working on forgiving him did not mean it was an invitation to join her alliance.

Wasn't she clear? Didn't she say numerous times that _she absolutely did not want him in her alliance?_ She didn't trust him.

 _With good reason, apparently._ He couldn't respect her requests.

She approached him, her blood boiling. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She didn't give him time to answer. She stood toe-to-toe with him, her eyes narrowing and his hands curling into a fist. "What are you doing here?" She spun to Raven. "What is he doing here?"

"No time!" Murphy snapped. While Clarke had stopped running to talk to Wells and Raven, Murphy had continued on his path, putting several feet between himself and the remainder of the alliance. "What are you all waiting for? Let's get out of here!"

Nobody moved at his insistence. Murphy swore and slowed to a stop, his expression darkening. Her allies turned to Clarke waiting for her reaction.

 _This was too much._ She was seething. Clarke doubted she had ever been this angry at him before, other than maybe when he volunteered as tribute or when she put together that _he_ was the one to have her dad murdered.

Wells was taking this too far. She was okay to try to forgive him. She had even allowed herself to hug him the previous day, for old times sake. They were best friends before, after all. _She trusted him before._

Now?

Now, she wouldn't trust him to tie her shoe laces. She couldn't and wouldn't trust him in the arena – she promised herself this. If she couldn't trust him with a secret, then she couldn't trust him when they were encouraged to kill each other.

 _But here he stood_.

"Clarke!" Murphy snapped, bouncing from foot too foot. He was clearly antsy to go. It looked like everyone else was in the same position as him; Lincoln was slowly inching his way towards Murphy and Monty had began to pace in front of the group, his eyes trained on the Cornucopia.

"We have to go, Clarke," Raven said, her voice much more gentle than Murphy's. "We're in the open. I- I don't know where the Careers are. I lost track of them. Tributes could be anywhere and we are-"

"Got it," she said, her voice hardened. _She knew what was at risk._ She knew they had to move before something terrible happened. It was a miracle they hadn't been targeted already.

Still, she didn't look away from Wells. While it had only been a few seconds of standing, she felt like it was an eternity. In the arena, a few seconds _was_ eternity. Life could easily change within seconds.

With a hardened expression, she locked eyes with Wells one more time. "Lets go."

That was all it took to get them moving. The group took off running, leaving the eerily empty and silent Cornucopia behind them.

With Murphy leading them, they took the path out of the city centre directly behind Charlotte's pedestal and _they ran_.

As the group moved through the narrow tunnel, Clarke couldn't help but feel closed in. The sides of the tunnel brushed against her arm and Lincoln had to duck to keep his head from banging against the ceiling.

They moved quickly and silently through the tiny tunnel, each feeling the need to escape growing more and more.

As soon as Clarke had slipped into a wider and an empty street, she began to distribute the supplies a little to make for an easier get away. She unclipped one of the backpacks from her own and handed it to Raven. The second bag was passed off to Lincoln. Murphy wasn't in any state to be carrying backpacks, so one was given to Wells and the other to Monty.

Monty managed to get the weapons – knives for Raven, a sword for her, and a sword for Lincoln. He must've been able to make it into the mouth of the Cornucopia, which would explain the blood he was covered in. He must've been right in the middle of the bloodbath.

During their time separated, Murphy picked up two backpacks and an empty water bottle. She hoped there were other water bottles in the backpacks, otherwise all seven of them would be sharing the one. Kane had reminded her time and time again that the elements could kill just as easily and frequently as other tributes.

As they ran down the open street, her eyes were constantly scanning the buildings the towered over them. She doubted any of the tributes would stick so close to the Cornucopia, but she didn't want to take the risk and assume.

She tried to run as silently as possible, but it was hard. The further away they got from the Cornucopia, the streets became less filled with grass. As the grass disappeared, the pavement became the only material they could run on.

Even though the rest of the group managed to keep their footfalls relatively silent, Charlotte's feet hit the ground with an audible slap every time.

Lincoln leaned down towards the young girl. "Try to step on to your heel and roll to your toe," he mumbled to her. Even though he was talking in a hushed tone, it seemed too loud for the otherwise silent city. "It'll make you quieter."

Charlotte must've been too tired to talk. She responded with a brief nod and attempted to change her running technique. While it wasn't perfect, it was quieter than before, which made Clarke happy.

She wasn't too sure what the rest of the arena looked like. Once again, she thought that the whole arena being one large city was extremely unlikely. She knew that would make for a boring Games – that was something the Gamemakers couldn't afford.

Still, they turned onto street after street. Buildings stretched high into the sky, blocking all views to the rest of the arena. Were they even walking in the right direction anymore? Was there anything more to this arena?

Before she could begin to doubt herself, she caught sight of a patch of green between two buildings. It was still a fair distance away from where they stood, but it was something. _It was something._

"Head that way!" Monty called, his finger pointing in the direction Clarke had just seen the green.

As Murphy turned onto a street heading directly south, the group fell into a formation of sorts. Monty had hung back with Raven as they ran, keeping the group protected from the back. Clarke and Murphy took the lead, while Lincoln and Wells were in the centre with Charlotte.

As they travelled further south, the thuds of their feet hitting the ground dulled as the pavement turned to grass. With one final turn, they had burst out from the concrete jungle, running straight into an open field. Clarke could see a beautiful lush forest in the distance.

 _That's where they were headed._ Away from the bloodbath. Away from the Careers.

Her eyes were sharp as they left the cover of the buildings. Without the city, they lost the advantage of being protected from multiple sides. She didn't see anybody else running _anywhere_ outside of the city centre and that worried her. _Where was everyone?_

If she heard Raven right from earlier, then the Careers were missing. She hadn't seen Bellamy or Octavia either.

Her stomach churned at the thoughts that followed.

What happened to the Blakes? She wondered if two of the people screaming in the city centre were them. She wondered if they had been two of the tributes that had died during the bloodbath.

 _No._

No, they wouldn't die right away. They had been training for years for this exact moment. They would've had a strategy planned years in advanced. They would be fine.

 _They would be fine._

Still, she couldn't shake this feeling of absolute horror when she thought about the fact that she hadn't seen Bellamy escape to safety. She felt like she was betraying him by not ensuring he was okay. She felt like she was leaving him behind.

 _It wasn't logical._ She knew that. They had decided to go their separate ways. They had already said goodbye. _But she couldn't shake that feeling._

She reminded herself that she shouldn't care any more. _She shouldn't care about Bellamy Blake._ All she should care was about her people – her alliance. Bellamy and her had different priorities now.

While she had a few days of paradise with him earlier, that was supposed to mean nothing now. They weren't a team. They weren't allies. They were nothing to each other in the arena; she was just somebody he trained with.

As they entered the forest, they had to slow their run the slightest bit. The ground was uneven and covered with debris, making their movements uncoordinated and frantic. There were bits of ruined buildings scattered throughout, most hidden under bunches of grass or bushes.

Trying to put the Blakes out of her mind, she glanced at Murphy out of the corner of her eye.

 _He saved her life._

Out of her whole alliance, she trusted him least. _She barely knew him_. All she knew was he liked to be called Murphy, was good with knives, was decent at other weapons, had an attitude, and didn't seem to hold anything back. He had just joined the alliance last night and had absolutely no time to bond with him. _She wasn't even sure if he knew Charlotte's name._

He was an outsider, yet, he didn't hesitate to run into danger for them. He didn't think twice about throwing her to the ground, risking his own life to get her out of the way of an arrow.

 _And in the process, he did get injured._

He got shot to keep her safe. She could see the blood seeping out from between his fingers that he still held over the wound. The end of the arrow shaft stuck out from between his fingers slightly. The sleeve of his jacket was ripped and the shirt underneath was stained red. She even had blood across her neck from when he landed on her.

"We need to find cover," Clarke called back to the others, concern filling her for Murphy. "I need to treat Murphy's injury."

"I'm fine," he grumbled, clearly not impressed to have attention called to him.

She stared at him for a long moment, not convinced in the slightest. Out here, even the smallest injuries could mean death. Judging on the amount of blood he had already lost, this was far from a small injury.

"You're kidding, right?" Raven snapped from the back of the group. "You're practically leaving a trail of blood behind us!"

As if to prove he was fine, Murphy tried to move his hand away from the wound. He grimaced and quickly clamped his hand over it once again. Clarke nodded, her judgement being proved.

"That's what I thought. You need some treatment."

She glanced around the forest, looking for any signs of other tributes or any other dangers. They had been running for a half hour at that point – they could do with a little break anyways.

The trees were densely packed, which made it nearly impossible to see too far ahead, but she thought they would be okay to stop for a minute. That's all she needed to get him patched up. She couldn't make him run for hours with an injury.

"Here's good," she determined, slowing to a stop.

As soon as she uttered those words, Murphy stumbled over his own two feet. He caught himself on a nearby tree before he could fall to the ground, a loud grunt coming from his lips. Wells lurched forward to catch him, but he was batted away roughly by Murphy.

"Get off me," he spat. Wells instantly backed off. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine to me," Clarke commented. Her mind was already elsewhere as she tried to think of how to help heal him. She was running through possible temporary treatments – searching for _anything_ to help stop the bleeding. "Sit down. I'll try to find something." He did as he was told, slumping to the ground. She doubted he would've been able to stand for much longer.

"I'm serious." His head lulled back to rest against the tree. "Just tired." He lifted his hand away from his arm the slightest bit. He grimaced as he began to bleed more. "See? Just a scratch."

"Keep pressure on it," she said quickly, slightly horrified that he found this a joke. _This is Murphy,_ she reminded herself. His coping mechanisms seemed to be jokes. She turned to the group, remembering that they would be waiting on her for some direction. Not only was she the unofficial leader of their group, but she was also the only one who knew what she needed in this situation. "Someone make sure he doesn't mess up the clot that he already has. Keep pressure on it."

Clarke didn't wait to see if anyone moved to help Murphy. She ripped open the backpack she was carrying, hoping to find some bandages.

 _Nothing._

She flipped through it. There was a small pack of crackers, an empty water bottle, a toothbrush, dental floss, toothpaste, and soap.

Clarke threw the bag to the ground. She couldn't use anything. They didn't have time to look through other bags either – they had to keep moving. They were only a half an hour away from the city centre and the possibility that other tributes could be around was high. Clarke took the edge of her shirt and cut off a strip of cloth with the knife she had stuffed in her jacket pocket.

Murphy removed his hand as she inched her way back over to him, the piece of tattered cloth in her hands. She studied his wound, her eye critical. The end of the arrow was still stuck in his arm.

That was good. The arrowhead would limit the blood flow. If he had taken it out during their escape, she was sure he would be in a worse condition than he was in that moment.

She felt bad leaving it in. She knew it would be uncomfortable and painful, but that was the best option until she had time to clean the wound and bandage it properly. They would have to do that when they were in a safer spot, which could take hours.

She had to work with what she had though. Clarke leaned forward and began working on bandaging his arm.

As soon as she began to focus on the task, he glanced up at her. "I never knew you were a criminal," he commented. She glanced briefly at him, wondering where he was taking this conversation. "At your interview yesterday. You said you are fresh out of lock-up."

Clarke realized that he missed the conversation she had with her allies the night of the interviews. Before she revealed her past to Panem, she told her allies so they wouldn't be surprised. It never even crossed her mind that Murphy approached them _after_ they had already discussed her being a criminal.

He must've had a shock as he listened to her interview.

"I am," she said, not really paying attention to the words she spoke. "I am a criminal." She pulled the hem of her shirt more, ripping the cloth further.

Murphy let out a dry laugh at her response. "I find that very hard to believe," he replied. "You're like… so proper and righteous. You're the completely _opposite_ of the definition of a criminal."

"I wouldn't be so sure." She took the piece of cloth and wrapped it tightly around his arm. She could see he was uncomfortable because of the arrow protruding from his skin still. She grimaced. "I'm sorry," she told him. "This will have to do until we get somewhere safer. I'll be able to work better then. It isn't too excruciating, is it?" She leaned back slightly, evaluating the expression on his face. He was clearly in pain.

"It'll do," he agreed through his teeth. He wiped his hand off that had been keeping pressure on his wound across the side of his pant leg, smearing blood all across it. "We have to keep moving."

"I'm too tired," Charlotte whined, her bottom lip quivering. "Can we stay here? Please?"

Clarke stood up from the ground, brushing dead leafs from her pant leg. As she did, she turned to the young girl. "We're too close to the city," she explained. "We'll be found here. We're too exposed."

"We have to find shelter," Raven agreed. She was looking at Murphy, her lips pressed together tightly. "And we need to get Murphy's wound treated."

Murphy cocked an eyebrow at her, a smirk on his face. "I knew my charm would win you over."

She rolled her eyes. "More like I'll need a sacrifice if the Careers come strolling by." She tightened the straps of her backpack, her expression stony once again. "Let's get going."

Charlotte let out a small whine. "I can't," she cried. Tears were filling her eyes rapidly, but she was holding them back. "I… I can't. I want to go home." She burst into tears at this. Clarke and Lincoln looked at each other, neither knowing what to do.

Her heart broke for the kid. In that moment, she missed her home too, even though it was hard to remember what she was really missing. She missed her family, and her friends, and the safety that came with it. She missed feeling loved and cared for.

Being in the arena was lonely, even with her group of allies. She knew Charlotte must've been feeling the same way.

"The way you get home is to not give up," Monty said, his voice holding a determination Clarke hadn't heard before. He stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder, making her pause her tears. "We have to survive to get home – and, to do that, we need to find shelter further away from the Cornucopia." Charlotte let out a few more sobs. "We'll all have to be strong and we'll all have to work together. We're a family now, Charlotte. _All of us._ " Wells shifted on the outskirts of the group, looking uncomfortable. "We'll need your help to survive, too. I know you're strong enough and brave enough to do it. Hey?" She nodded her head and furiously wiped her cheeks. "Good. That's good."

"Come here," Lincoln said, placing his backpack on the ground. "I'll carry you."

He scooped her off the ground and put her on his back, piggyback style. She was so tiny that it didn't look like he was exerting much effort keeping her on his back. Monty reach down and grabbed the backpack. He clipped it onto the side of his.

Clarke glanced around the group. Murphy was slowly pulling himself off the forest floor, dismissing anyone who tried to help. Charlotte was wiping every stray tear that ran down her face. Raven stood close to Monty, both of them whispering. _And then there was Wells._ She tried not to look at him.

"Are we good to continue?" Clarke asked. With the conformation of everyone, they took off running again.

They moved as a group through the forest, with her at the head of the pack. Lincoln had taken up the middle position because he wasn't able to maneuver as well as he did without Charlotte on his back. Murphy had been drained by their thirty minute run from city centre, and he was taking up the rear with Raven and Wells.

She knew the group at the back was volatile. It was a disaster waiting to happen. Raven hated Murphy… Murphy hated Wells… Wells hated Murphy… Murphy also seemed to enjoy getting on Raven's nerves. It was an endless cycle of bad blood.

They seemed to put their past differences behind them. _That_ or everyone was so exhausted that they had no energy left to bicker. Whatever the reason, Clarke was happy nobody had tried to kill each other yet.

Monty had moved to the front of the group, leading them through the forest with Clarke. She was happy Monty was with her. He was beyond brilliant. Whenever they had to decide which way to go, he had a plan. _Go right, it has the advantage of elevation. Take the path with the non-flattened grass, nobody has been through there yet._ Without him, she wouldn't know which way to turn.

 _They travelled for hours_.

She didn't know how they did it. Clarke's legs burned like she had never felt before and her lungs were screaming in pain. Her body was begging her to _stop_ and to _rest_ but she couldn't. They had to keep going.

After just over an hour of running, they decided as a group to slow to a walk, but even that was painful.

She could feel sweat dripping down her face and trickling her back. Her hair had come loose from her ponytail, gluing itself to her sweaty neck. It didn't help that the air had turned as thick as smoke with humidity. She felt like it was so humid out that she had to _force_ the air into her lungs. She knew she wasn't the only one feeling this way – she could hear Monty struggling for breath beside her.

 _The whole time she ran, she let her mind wonder._

She thought about those first few minutes of the Games – the terrible bloodbath. She couldn't get the feeling of the wind being knocked out of her by the girl from District 9 out of her mind. The sound of the children crying and screaming rang in her ears, turning her blood cold. Those would be sounds that would stick with her until her last breath.

She could still feel the panic inside of her when she realized she couldn't find her allies. The feeling of isolation and the thoughts of dying alone were enough to make her want to freeze up. And then, she felt that same panic again when she was attacked by the District 9 girl.

 _She could remember her scream of anguish as Clarke kicked her ankle._ She remembered the look of desperation in her eyes as she held the knife above her. _She was just a puppet to the Capitol._ And Clarke had left her to die.

A chill went up her spine despite the scorching weather.

She could still feel Murphy's body smacking into her, pushing her out of the way of the arrow. The panic that filled her when she realized she didn't know who was on top of her and the dread she felt when she realized her hand with the knife was trapped under her body was terrible. She also felt his warm blood flow onto her neck from where his shoulder was hit.

 _Blood. So much blood._

She didn't know if she would ever be able to smell something other than blood again. It was soaked into her clothes and covered her skin. It hung in the air like fog on a brisk night.

Her thoughts drifted to the Blakes. _To Bellamy_. She was worried about them – she couldn't even begin to pretend she wasn't. She knew they were extremely skilled, but she couldn't shake him from her mind. They scored extremely high and had worked their whole lives to develop their skills as fighters; she knew they were capable and would be okay. Clarke knew Bellamy was talented – he had taught her only a fraction of his knowledge, and she managed to impress the judges enough to get a decent score in training. She had watched Octavia sprint across the gauntlets and Bellamy climb rock walls.

They would be fine.

 _They were fine._

Still, she couldn't help but worry. The last time she had seen Bellamy, they had almost kissed on the roof. She had pulled away out of fear of getting hurt, but that only ended up hurting her more in the long run. She regretted not kissing him, because she knew she would never get the opportunity to do so again.

She remembered the pain of heartbreak as they said goodbye. She could see how broken his face was when he realized this was their last moments together. She could remember how broken she felt when she realized the same time.

 _No. Too much pain there._

Instead of thinking of Bellamy, she thought about her home. _(Like there wasn't any less pain there.)_ She thought of her mother and father. She had a lot of time to think about them while she was in lock-up, so these thoughts were familiar to her.

She tried to remember what her father's laugh sounded like, or how his hair fell into his eyes in the mornings. _She struggled to do so_. It was painful to realize that the memory of him was fading away.

She tried to remember what her mother felt like when she hugged her, but she couldn't. While she tried to memorize that feeling before she left for the Capitol, nothing would ever replace the feeling of being wrapped in her arms.

It had been a year since she had truly been with them. _It had been one full year since she felt like a daughter._ It was painful to do, but she couldn't help but think back to the last moments they were all together as a family.

 _She had been ripped from her bed by them before the sun rose and been hauled to the living room. She remembered that her hip slammed against her bed table, spilling her study notes all over the carpet. She was shoved onto the sofa, falling into her mother's lap._

 _The house smelled like bananas – a luxury item that her mother received from some wealthy sponsor in the Capitol. She remembered the scent so clearly._

 _She was confused as she scrambled into a sitting position. She glanced towards her mother, begging for answers. What were the Peacekeepers doing in her house? Why were they throwing her around? Why was her mother shaking? Where was her dad?_

 _Then, she seen him. He had his hands cuffed behind his back and several Peacekeepers surrounding him. Clarke's heart jumped to her throat when she realized what was happening._

 _They found out. They were taking him._

 _She was going to lose him._

 _"_ _Dad!?" Her voice cracked. Jake looked franticly to her, panic in his eyes. "Dad!" Clarke got up from the couch, but her mother pulled her back down. She fell into the cushions, her eyes never leaving her father's._

 _"_ _No," Abby hissed. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, holding her in place. Clarke tried to pull away, but her arms were like iron. "Don't, Clarke."_

 _"_ _Listen to your mother," Jake called, his voice even. He didn't show one ounce of fear despite these being his final moments. He was shoved roughly towards the door. He stumbled forward, thrown off balance._

 _"_ _Dad!?" Her voice was hoarse from screaming and her eyes burned from the unshed tears._

 _She ripped out of her mother's grasp violently and leapt off the sofa. Before a Peacekeeper could grab a hold of her, she was bolting across the room. She collided with her father, burying her face into his neck one last time. She gripped the back of his shirt and let out a broken sob._

 _"_ _It's okay," he whispered to her, his lips beside her head. "It'll be okay, Clarke."_

 _"_ _Dad. What's going on? What's happening?" He pulled away and looked her in the eyes._

 _"_ _Your mother will explain everything," he promised. His eyes turned more frantic. "You've gotta tell them, Clarke. You have to-" His was punched in the gut, making him double over. Clarke let out a scream and burning anger filled her._

 _She made a lunge towards the Peacekeeper, intending to rip them off her father. Before she could, arms wrapped around her shoulders, catching her before she lunged. She was pulled into a warm chest, keeping her from attacking. Clarke didn't need to see his face to know who he was._

 _"_ _Wells, let me go!" she begged, her voice hysterical. She trashed in his arms, trying to free herself. "Wells! Please!" He tightened his arms, pulling her to his chest. He mumbled something into her ear, but she didn't hear him over her loud sobs._

 _Her dad was hauled to his feet again and shoved towards the door. He turned to Clarke one more time._

This was the last time their eyes would ever meet.

 _"_ _Be smart. Do good." He stumbled forward as a Peacekeeper shoved him. "I love you, Clarke."_

 _"_ _I love you, too!" Her voice was watery and cracked, but she didn't care. He was shoved outside, leaving Abby and Wells beside her._

 _They were completely silent. It sent a chill up Clarke's spine; they had been screaming and crying only moments before, and the silence was terrifying._

 _Not even fifteen seconds later, she could hear her dad screaming outside. Clarke flinched into Wells' chest, her heart breaking._

 _They were hurting him and she couldn't do anything._

 _"_ _Stay here," Abby said, already moving swiftly out of the house. When the door swung shut, Clarke succumbed to her anguish._

 _All she wanted was to be in her dad's arms. Even though she didn't know what exactly was going on, she knew that this was the last time she was going to see him. Peacekeepers don't just come into your home and rip you from your beds for nothing._

 _Clarke turned and sobbed into Wells' chest. Her hands gripped the material of his shirt and her tears left marks on the cloth. He pulled her tighter, almost like he knew that his arms were the only things keeping Clarke together in that moment._

 _She could feel his steady heartbeat against her palm. She felt safe in his arms. She felt like they would be able to protect and take care of each other, no matter what happened next._

 _Then, reality hit her._

 _Suddenly, she pushed away. She felt disgusted that he thought he could stand beside her, like he didn't cause all of this. She stumbled back a few steps, hatred growing in her eyes as she put the pieces together. She turned to Wells, angry tears spilling down her cheeks._

 _"_ _You did this!" she insisted, her voice filled with spite. "I trusted you!" She let an angry sob bubble out of her. "_ I trusted you!" _She sobbed again and stalked up to him. She poked him in the chest, making him stumble backwards. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut, huh? Had to go talking to your dad about the_ wrong _things my father has done."_

 _"_ _Clarke, I-"_

 _"_ _I don't want to hear it!" she snapped. Clarke broke down sobbing again, wrapping her arms around her torso, trying to keep the pieces of herself in place. "Get out." He made no movement towards the door. Her eyes flashed and she pointed. "_ Get the fuck out, Wells!"

 _He looked torn, but he complied. "I'm sorry, Clarke. I truly am."_

 _She didn't even notice him leave her house, she was sobbing so hard. She fell to the ground, her arms tightly wrapping around her middle._

 _She did this._

 _She killed her father._

 _If she hadn't told Wells, the Capitol never would have found out._

She killed her dad.

 _She sobbed harder as she realized exactly what happened. The Capitol found out about the radio calls. They knew that they knew District 13 existed. That's why they were going to kill her dad._

 _She didn't know how long she sat on the floor of her house, sobbing uncontrollably. The next thing she could remember was Abby pulling her into her arms. The two women sat on the floor together, sobbing._

 _"_ _I'm so sorry!" Clarke gasped. Her heart felt like it was broken. She could feel pain radiating throughout her whole body. "I'm so sorry." Abby pulled her tight and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to bring her some comfort._

 _"_ _It's not your fault, Clarke." She kissed her forehead. "It's not your fault."_

She couldn't bring herself to look at Wells as they ran through the arena. His face brought back too many painful memories at that moment.

She didn't truly know what happened that day, but she did know one thing. _She couldn't trust him, not after what he did._

Still, her mother's words rang in her ears. _It's not your fault._ The guilt those words brought her had been eating away at her. _She told Wells_. She killed her dad _. It was her fault._

Clarke could feel tears forming in her eyes, so she pushed that thought away. She had ran through that moment hundreds of times before, but it was just as painful each time. She tried to push all thoughts about her home out of her head.

 _It was too painful._ She couldn't afford to get emotional right now. She had to stay focused.

Her alliance hadn't spoken in miles. They were too exhausted and too dehydrated to speak. She wondered how the rest of her group was doing.

Her mouth felt parched and dry. Every breath she took only dried her mouth more. She knew that if she closed her mouth and tried to swallow, it would feel like sandpaper.

She couldn't imagine how Lincoln was feeling, carrying Charlotte. She didn't know how Murphy was still upright with an arrow in his arm. He was a lot tougher than he looked.

She assumed it was getting late into the evening. If she was judging by the position of the sun, they were dropped into the arena sometime passed noon. The sun was almost at its pinnacle when they first arrived, but there were still shadows across the ground. While it wasn't dark out yet, she knew the sun would be setting within the hour.

 _Then, she heard it_.

The sound made her jump and reach for the sword hanging on her waist. She paused when she realized what it was. _It wasn't someone attacking them._ It was the Gamemakers.

Six distinct booms echoed through the arena; cannons firing for each deceased tribute.

Clarke looked back at her group wearily. She locked eyes with Raven and an understanding passed between them.

 _This wasn't good._

Those six cannon fires meant that only six tributes died in the bloodbath. That meant eighteen tributes were still alive, including herself and her pack. There were eleven other tributes out there, all of them hungry for blood and desperate for victory.

Clarke wondered who the unlucky tributes from that day were. She didn't remember seeing any of the faces of the bodies that she ran passed with Murphy and Monty.

The whole time at the Cornucopia had been a blur – she was worried about staying alive, getting enough supplies, finding the two guys, getting Murphy out safely, and then reuniting with the others. All she remembered were _bodies,_ but no faces.

Even the body that she had hurdled over had no face. _They were already reduced to tributes in her mind_ and it hurt. _They were human._ Didn't they deserve to be remembered? Didn't they deserve to have names?

They needed to find shelter. _Fast_. If she wanted any chance to fix Murphy's wounds, she needed light. If the sun would be gone within the hour, she had less than that to help heal him.

"We need shelter." Her voice was scratchy as she spoke. She could hardly get the words out. _Gods, she needed water._

Monty nodded in agreement and slowed his steps; the pack followed his lead. They stopped jogging for a brief moment. It was in this moment that Clarke realized how much pain she was in.

She instantly doubled over, her eyes wide as she struggled to breathe. She could barely feel her body because there was so much pain. She felt hot and sticky and sore and _gods, this was terrible._

Wells doubled over as soon as they slowed, gasping for breath. Lincoln dropped Charlotte as gently as he could manage and leaned against the tree, his legs too weak to support himself. Most surprisingly, Murphy and Raven were so exhausted that they leaned on each other for support.

Monty looked at the horizon as he struggled to catch his breath. He pointed at something in the distance, his face filled with hope. Clarke followed his line of sight.

A mile or two away, a small cabin stood. She had seen several cabins scattered throughout the woods, but most were destroyed, leaving only a foundation and other rubble behind. Others had walls knocked down and stones laying about. There had only been a handful left standing, seemingly untouched.

 _This was one of them._

She considered this their first stroke of luck.

"How's that for shelter?" Monty questioned, his voice small. Raven stumbled up to him and pressed into his side. He helped her steady herself without a second thought.

"Perfect," she praised, patting his shoulder. Clarke took their word for it. After all, Raven had a knack for shelters.

Somehow, they made it there. Even though Clarke felt like she couldn't take another step, she did. It was excruciating in ways she had never experienced before, but she couldn't let that stop her. Step after step, they slowly made their way towards the small building.

As they approached it, Clarke pulled out her sword. Even holding the weapon felt like an impossible task. Every part of her body was absolutely _aching_.

But no matter how tired she was, she couldn't let her guard down. Not now – not ever. Every moment spent in this arena, she had to stay alert. She had to be ready for anything.

So, when they were nearing the cabin, she turned to her group. "I'll go check to make sure it's empty," she said. Lincoln pulled out his sword that was clipped around his waist, a look of determination crossing his features.

"I'll go with you." While she wanted to protest, she knew she would need the backup if anyone _was_ inside the cabin. Even fully rested, she knew she couldn't fight and win against some of the tributes. "Everyone should stay back and stay hidden. We don't know who has long distance weapons." Clarke smiled slightly. She was thankful to have him in her alliance with his strategies – she never would've thought of that herself.

Raven, Monty, Charlotte, Murphy and Wells slowly inched their way to stand behind a fairly large piece of rubble propped up against a tree. As soon as she assured they were hidden, her and Lincoln began walking towards the small building.

Their movements were slow to try and be as quiet as possible. Clarke bent her knees the slightest bit, crouching low to the ground so she was planted as firmly as possible if an attack did happen. She held her sword in front of her, just how Bellamy taught her.

The was different than the ones at the training centre. It was heavier and harder to balance. _Of course it was._ Nothing could be easy in the arena. She didn't have time to learn the new sword now. They needed to find shelter – fast.

Even though Clarke knew she should have felt terrified in that moment, but she was honestly too exhausted. She had pushed herself past her threshold of pain, she had pushed herself to physical and mental exhaustion, and her emotions had been all of the place all day.

 _She was exhausted. She was done._

So, while she made her way to the cabin, her heart wasn't racing any faster than it did only five minutes beforehand.

Lincoln and Clarke pressed their backs against the peeling paint of the small building as soon as they approached the cabin. Clarke couldn't imagine the house was bigger than one room; there was probably enough room for a kitchen and a single table to fit in the whole ground floor. There was a second floor that was just as small as the first.

It was another gift in disguise. The size of the building just meant they had to check less space, which meant she could get her alliance into safety sooner.

They waited with their breaths held, both straining their ears to hear anything inside. All Clarke could hear was the wind in the trees. It was eerily silent in the whole arena, including the cabin. She tried to hear shuffling or whispers from inside the house, but there was nothing.

She locked eyes with Lincoln, looking for his judgement. He gave her a small nod. _It was time to go._

He inched his way to the doorknob, careful not to step on any dead branches of leafs. Quietly and slowly, he opened the old door. A loud creek emanated from the door, making Clarke flinch. If anyone was in the house, they would've heard them by now.

Lincoln thought the same thing. As soon as the door made the sound, he rushed forward, no longer caring about stealth. Clarke was right behind him.

They weren't as coordinated as she hoped they would be; she stepped on the back of his shoe and bumped into his back when he stopped abruptly. She muttered a quick apology, but didn't stop to check on him. She was moving to scan the north side of the house, while he went to the south.

She checked the space behind the door, but that was all she could really do. The room was just as she imagined; small and bare. There wasn't a single place for someone to hide if they were there.

It was the same for Lincoln on the opposite side of the house. There were two walls and a staircase, but that was it. There wasn't any furniture to hide behind and even the staircase didn't provide any room to hide under.

She relaxed some of the tension in her shoulders, more than happy that she wouldn't have to fight another tribute that day. _They were safe, if only for a little while._

Clarke turned to Lincoln, words on the tip of her tongue.

 _Then she heard it._

There thump from upstairs.

She felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart completely stop. Her hands went numb and her blood ran completely cold. While she thought she had no energy left in her, the sound from the second floor sent a surprising shock through her system and she felt awake and alive once more.

Lincoln turned to her slowly, a look of fear evident on his face. His eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted, like he was stopped midsentence. Slowly, he pointed upstairs. She nodded in understanding.

 _They weren't alone._

* * *

 **And this marks the end of this suuuuuuuuper long chapter (at least by my standards). Once again, I'm really sorry for having such a long chapter! I know they can be a drag to read. The reason this was kept as one chapter was because I couldn't find a good place to split it. That, and this chapter was originally 6000 words long and, as I edited, I managed to add in so many scenes that it just got out of hand.**

 **Sorry for the lack of Bellarke in this chapter! I miss writing for them :((((((((**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It really feels like the start of a new fic because of how different it is! But I'm so excited to share it with everyone.**

 **I hope I managed to portray these action scenes well enough! Personally, the one thing I really struggle with is action scenes, so I'm quite interested to see opinions about this chapter! Feel free to leave them in the comments.**

 **I know you've all just read a lot, so I'll leave it there. Thanks for reading. And an extra special thank you to everyone who has left a review and favourited/followed or has supported this fic in other ways.**

 **I'm not entirely sure when the next update will be. It shouldn't be too long. Maybe a week?**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21: The First Camp

**Another update! Wow, is my updating schedule really messed up. Sorry about that!**

 **Also, another apology about the length of this chapter. This chapter is, once again 13k words! I just find these arena chapters very hard to cut.**

 **Warnings (spoilers!):** this chapter introduces more gore to this fic. There is mentions of blood, needles/stitches, medical operations, and pain. While there is not a lot of detail, I still feel like I should give an extra warning for this. As I mentioned last chapter, I have attempted to write the amount of gore to match the amount presented in the source material (and therefore, stays at a teen rating). If anyone has any questions/comments/concerns about this, I am completely open to it. (also, as always, a warning for violence and coarse language)

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 21: The First Camp**

* * *

 _Day 1_

* * *

As soon as Lincoln heard the noise from upstairs, he was moving.

He quickly walked across the room, moving towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, as quietly as possible. His feet were surprisingly quiet on the wooden floors; between the weight of their boots and the hastiness of his pace, she was surprised he didn't make more noise.

She tried to copy his walking technique and step where he stepped, hoping to avoid squeaking floorboards. They _had_ to have the element of surprise. Obviously whoever was upstairs hadn't heard the squeak of the door when they first entered the building. Clarke was going to use this to her full advantage.

He turned to her as they reached the bottom of the stairs, his facial expression tight. He motioned her to _wait_ and she nodded in understanding. As he kept moving up the stairs, she halted her advances and crouched low.

As Lincoln climbed the stairs, Clarke couldn't help but wonder which tribute was up there. _Was it the girl from District 12? Was it the Careers?_ She couldn't let her heart hope for Bellamy in this situation, but she couldn't stop herself from _wishing_ it would be him.

Clarke watched closely, her heart thrumming in her chest, as Lincoln climbed the final few steps of the staircase. She could feel her palm getting sweaty from the anticipation and her grip on her sword was loose.

Finally, in one swift movement, Lincoln poked his head around the corner, his sword in the ready position. His movements froze and his eyes widened slightly

Clarke was about to charge up the stairs behind him, but stopped when she heard his laugh. He turned to her, amusement clearly written on his face. _That_ made her freeze and lower her sword in confusion.

"What the hell?" she mouthed, still too nervous to make a sound. He motioned for her to follow him up the stairs.

"Come here."

Abandoning attempting to be silent, Clarke climbed up the stairs quickly, her boots hitting each step with an echo. With her heart still racing in her chest, she poked her head around the corner and into the small second floor. As soon as she did, she felt a smile spread across her face and relief flood her body.

 _It was a squirrel._

There wasn't a tribute in the cabin – it was just a tiny little animal.

 _Oh, gods._ She never thought she had been so thankful in her life. She had managed to survive the bloodbath without seeing the life leave someone's eyes; she was really hoping she wouldn't have that statement change.

Even though it was impossible that she wouldn't have to see someone die in the arena, it was nice to have something to hope for.

The squirrel had made a home for himself in the far corner of the empty room from small twigs and dead leafs. Nuts were collected and scattered all across the second floor, and there was a healthy stockpile in the far corner. The animal stared at them, completely frozen.

She smiled at the animal. This was the first one she had seen out in the arena.

"Have you ever hunted before?" he asked after a moment of silence. She shook her head.

The closest she ever got to hunting was when she would go with her mother for harvesting healing herbs and they would stumble upon an animal. Jackson – one of the other medics in District 6 – always managed to catch animals the found and he would split it with her family.

"Okay," Lincoln said, nodding his head. He slid his sword back into the holster at his waist. "Get the others then. I'll prep our meal for tonight."

Clarke didn't bother to protest that one. He seemed to have skills in survival that she could only dream of. If she were to kill the animals, she was sure she was going to waste a bunch of meat. At least with Lincoln doing the hunting, there was a chance they could all eat _something_ tonight.

Without another word, she left Lincoln to his task. Clarke took the stairs by twos and walked swiftly across the building, no longer worried about keeping quiet. She pulled open the front door and peered over to the large piece of rubble she had last seen her allies at. She didn't know who was around, so she decided waving them over was the safest bet.

She caught Monty's eyes and motioned him the all clear. She could see him turn his head slightly and say something to the rest of the group. As soon as he did, Well's head snapped towards her. From across the clearing, their eyes locked.

It didn't last long. Just seeing him sent a spike of anger through her. She clenched her jaw and turned away from the entrance of the house. Her hands curled into fists at her side and it took everything in her not turn around and walk back upstairs. The only thing stopping her from doing so was the fact she knew Lincoln was up there, taking apart an animal. She wasn't really in the mood to watch that.

Gods, Wells was the worst. While she had spent her final few days in the Capitol warming up to him ever so slightly, this was too much.

Their whole time as tributes, she made one thing clear; she didn't want to be involved with him while in the arena. _She had made her wishes very clear to him_. There wasn't even a slight chance that he misunderstood what she said because she wasn't being clear enough. She had spelled it out multiple times to him.

 _He just didn't want to listen._

She didn't trust him and she didn't want to be near him. It was as simple as that. How could she be around someone that she didn't trust while in the arena? While in here, she had to trust the people around her with her life. She had to rely on them.

 _She knew she couldn't do that with Wells._

Gods, she even let him write her a letter explaining everything. When the spoke the night before, he seemed so genuine and so heartbroken over what happened to them.

 _She was too, if she was being honest._

Standing with him, just before the interviews, she was heartbroken. That was meant to be her final goodbye to someone who was her best friend. That was meant to be goodbye to who they used to be. Even though things were complicated and she despised him, she _wanted_ to say goodbye. She _wanted_ to know his reasons for doing what he did.

Gods, why did he even write her that letter if he planned to tag along with her alliance?

She thought her mind in circles. What changed between him delivering that letter to her room while she was on the roof and that morning in the arena? What changed so much that he decided that he should be in control of their fates and their relationship.

She was getting more and more frustrated with him just by thinking of it al. He had gone _specifically against_ what she told him. She asked him to leave her alone, but he persisted. She told him that she was not interested in being his ally, but he still followed her in the arena.

It was almost like _everything_ he was doing was to push her buttons. Was he doing this on purpose?

She reached down to feel for her token – her father's watch. It still sat on her wrist, the skin sticking to the back of it and the band from the heat and the sweat. _In that moment, she wasn't thinking of the watch._ She was thinking of what sat underneath.

It was his letter he wrote to her. She didn't want to read it before the Games because she didn't want to work herself up and lose focus. _She had to stay focused and her mind had to be clear._ She planned to read it once she was in the arena, if she survived long enough.

But here he was. _Following her._

She was tempted to ask him face-to-face for an explanation. For what, she wasn't sure. She wanted him to give her a reason why he followed her in the arena. She wanted him to give her a reason why he volunteered for the Games. She wanted him to give her a reason why he betrayed her.

 _All she knew was she needed to know._ Why? Why would he continuously hurt her?

But she was too tired to do anything. In that moment, all she wanted to do was lay down and never get back up again. _She hurt._ Now that the adrenaline was draining from her system, every movement felt impossible.

The group entered the small house, breaking Clarke away from her thoughts. Just like her, they were too exhausted to be chatting.

Murphy was leaned against Monty awkwardly, both of them clearly too tired to complain. Clarke knew they didn't really like each other. Still, Monty had too good of a heart to make him walk alone.

Murphy had finally succumbed to the pain in his arm, making him weak in the legs. She didn't know how he managed to make it all day with an arrowhead still in his arm and blood down the front of his shirt. He looked like he was seconds away from passing out and she didn't blame him.

Well was the next one to walk in the house and she ignored him completely. She could feel his eyes on her face, but she didn't want to deal with him right now. She was too tired to make sense of her thoughts and her emotions – both things she wanted clear before she talked to him again.

Charlotte had lost the bounce in her step completely. It was heartbreaking to see her haunted eyes and her tearstained cheeks. She looked hallow on the inside and it was gut wrenching. She dragged her feet behind her and her shoulders were drooped.

Most concerning, Raven had a distinct look of pain on her face as she held her leg. She had a slight limp as she walked into the house, her hands clenched tightly on her thigh. Without hesitation, Clarke walked up to her.

"Are you okay?" Clarke asked, her eyebrows pulling together. Raven nodded her head sharply, a thin smile stretching across her face. Monty looked back at her with concern, his arm still wrapped around Murphy's shoulders.

"I'm okay," she replied tightly. She straightened up and tried to walk evenly on her leg, but she ended up limping. It looked like she was in even more pain than before.

"You're not," Clarke insisted. "It's your leg."

Raven let out a long breath and leaned against the railing of the staircase, taking her weight off of her leg. While she hadn't completed her medical training, Clarke didn't need that to know something was majorly wrong with her friend. She scanned her body for blood – looking for any signs of injury.

"It's all of the running," Raven explained after a long moment. She fidgeted with her hands, her eyes glued on her fingers. After a long moment, she looked up and locked eyes with Clarke. "I never really mentioned it before – I just didn't think it was necessary."

"What?" she asked. "What didn't you mention before?"

Raven shrugged. "I got an injury a few years ago that nearly paralyzed me." Clarke swallowed thickly at that. _She didn't know._ "Since I was one of the up and coming mechanics of the district – and, according to a few people – of Panem, they wanted to do anything to help me. They wanted to do anything to save my career."

"They?" Clarke echoed.

"Yeah. You know. Capitol officials and doctors and stuff." Clarke half wondered if her mother was in on this decision. "Anyways, a few of my supervisors recommended me for an experimental procedure. It was designed to help fix spinal cord injuries, but the technology could be applied for me." Raven rubbed her leg with a wince. "I had shrapnel pressed up against my spine. I lost a lot of blood. The procedure worked for the most part. I got function of my legs again and could walk – something that they told me I might not be able to do again. For a while, I had really nerve damage and lost all feeling in it, but…" She shrugged. "It's different now, but I'll never be the same."

"I had no idea," Clarke admitted.

"Don't worry. I'm not mad you didn't know," Raven said, a small smile on her lips. "Most times, I can move like nothing ever happened to me. For the most part, I can deal with the pain that comes with that. But… It gives me a lot more pain if I use it too much. I shouldn't really be running. Like I said, it helped, but it's never really been the same. I've gotten used to it for my daily activities, but I've never pushed it this much."

Clarke frowned. "I wish you would've told me. We could've stopped running."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm still alive. A little pain isn't going to bring me down." Somehow, she managed to keep a smile on her face. Clarke was inspired by how strong she was. "Plus, if we would've stopped running, we could've been killed."

"We're in the arena. Anything could kill us."

She shrugged. "Everyone has their battle scars, Clarke. I'm not going to bring everyone else down because of mine."

She shook her head. "No. You wouldn't be bringing us down," she insisted. "You're part of our team. Monty said it earlier – we're family now. If you can't run for long periods, we won't either. This is your _health_ we are talking about." Clarke lightly touched her shoulder.

"Thanks." Raven sighed loudly. "This is the only time I'll ever be thankful for Capitol technology, even if it is a pain in my ass," she grumbled.

Wells winced. "Careful what you say," he warned her. "We are in their Games and this is their arena. They can do whatever they want to us."

Raven shot him a look. "Careful, Wells," she snapped, her voice tight. "The only reason I didn't kill you was because I felt bad for setting Murphy on you after the chariot rides," she snapped.

Clarke remembered how angry Raven looked when she first spotted her in the arena. That felt so long ago, even if it was only a few hours. She had been standing in front of Wells, absolutely lashing out at him.

Raven knew that she didn't get along with Wells. Clarke was grateful she attempted to stand up for her and hold her ground.

"Why don't you sit?" Monty question, stepping forward. He had set Murphy down on the floor and had turned his entire attention to her.

She batted his hand away, a frown on her face. "I don't need sympathy. I don't want pity. I'm fine." Clarke pressed her lips tightly together. She knew Raven was a strong woman – it was clear by her actions in the Games and her attitude in life. She just hated seeing her friend in so much pain from using it in an extreme circumstance.

"You should get some rest," Clarke commented. Raven shot her a look. "I'm not saying that because I pity you, Raven. I'm saying that as your friend. _And as your ally_. We need you as strong as possible if we're going to get through the Games." Clarke turned to everyone. "We need to all be as strong as possible." She smiled. "You each have skills that us, as a group, could really use. If we work together as a team – we can do this."

"Aren't you a beacon of positivity," Murphy drawled from the floor.

"It's true," Wells insisted. "We'll need to work together as a team."

The room fell silent. Clearly, everyone was having a hard time accepting Wells as being part of the alliance. Did the fact Clarke let him run with them even make him part of their alliance?

"We need a fire!" Lincoln called from the top floor, breaking the awkward silence. Clarke was grateful for it. While she couldn't stand Wells at the moment, she didn't want to get into the details with her group about _why._

Charlotte looked puzzled. "What? A fire?"

"We caught supper," Clarke explained. "Well... Lincoln did." He came down the stairs and looked around at the group.

"Can one of you build a fire?"

Monty nodded and went outside. As he left to do that, Clarke walked up to Murphy. Along the way, she leaned over to Wells.

"I don't need you to fight my fights," she told him, her voice low. "I don't need your help."

His face was tight. "Got it." He crossed his arms, an unreadable expression on his face. "I take it you didn't read my letter?"

"No," she answered. How could he tell? Even if she did read the letter, she doubted her attitude towards him would be any different than it was in that moment. She doubted any explanation in the world would make her hate him less for betraying her.

Before she could get into it with Wells anymore than she had to, she left him standing in the middle of the room. She examined Murphy with critical eyes. The piece of cloth wrapped around his shoulder was soaked with blood. His face was twisted with pain and drawn with exhaustion.

"We need to get that arrow out of you because it causes more damage," she commented. She crouched in front of him and reached for the wound. He winced and gasped as she unwound the bandage.

"Watch it," he mumbled. He was too tired to hold the same hostility he usually had. Clarke felt even more worried in that moment.

She tugging the bandage gently and tossed it to the floor. Clarke glanced at his wound and chewed on her lip. It was worse than what she thought it was.

"You'll need stitches," she determined. She swore and leaned back, her head tilting to the sky.

She couldn't do this. She didn't have the supplies and she wasn't in the proper environment to be doing any medical treatments. With the equipment she had in that moment, all she could do was bandage wounds up, but she knew it wouldn't be good enough in this moment.

Wells surprised her by speaking. "I know you can do a suture," he insisted. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. He stood a foot behind her, peering at Murphy over her shoulder. "I've seen you do it before."

In that moment, she didn't feel angry with Wells. She just felt worried for her ally on the floor. All her thoughts and her energy was absorbed by Murphy – she didn't have time or room to worry about Wells.

If she didn't treat him, she doubted he would get better on his own. In the arena, an injury like that would make a big difference in survival. Not only did it make him more susceptible to infection and prone to being picked off in a fight, but it would also reduce his sponsors. Who would want to spend their money on a kid who was injured and going to die anyways?

She rested her forehead against the back of her wrist as she thought. _She needed to do something._ What could she do? What was needed?

He needed stitches, or he would bleed out. The arrow had pierced the skin on first impact, but it had continued to tear it on the run to the cabin. It was a fairly long gash now, and it was deep. If she didn't seal it, she didn't know how long it would take for him to die out there.

Sutures. She did them only a few days ago on the Capitol mannequin for training. She could do them again, right?

 _Wrong._ She didn't have the same equipment. At least back in the Capitol, she had a suture kit and the _thing_ she was working on wasn't alive. _Murphy was alive._ Being stitched up without any anesthetic would be sickening for him.

"I don't have any medical equipment," she said finally, straightening her back. "At least not in my bag. I haven't checked the others."

Without question, Wells shrugged off his and kneeled beside her, already digging through it. The others followed suit, each pulling out items from their bag. Clarke already knew what was in her bag; crackers, a water bottle, a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss and a bar of soap. Nothing that could help their situation.

Really, she couldn't see a situation where any of those items would _ever_ be helpful.

"Monty has an empty water canister, a pack of water sterilizers, crackers, and matches." Charlotte said as she dug through the bag he had been carrying.

"Yes! Matches!" Raven cheered as she pulled out a tiny box from her backpack. "Monty! You'll need these!" She rushed out the door after him, still limping from the pain.

Lincoln was next to pull out items from his bag. "I've got a thermal blanket, a pair of gloves, some rope and liquid sanitizer," Lincoln said. He shoved the items back in the backpack and Raven returned from outside. "We could use the blanket to tie his arm?"

Clarke shook her head. "No. He'll bleed through it and we need it. If they gave that to us, then they must know it'll get cold in the arena."

Murphy chuckled from the ground, his voice dry. "I think I lost _all_ the water in my body today from the heat. I can't see how this place is going to get cold."

"You never know," Raven pointed out, her voice distracted as she dug through her bag. "They control the climate in here." She turned back to her bag. "More matches, some cotton, a full water bottle, and some food." She placed all of the items back in her bag, but kept the water out. She turned to Clarke, concern written across her features. Without hearing her speak, Clarke already knew what she was thinking. _One bottle of water would not be enough._ "We need more. Unless Wells is carrying a few liters, this is all we have."

Clarke pressed the back of her wrist tighter to her head.

"I know," she said finally, her voice heavy. She swore again under her breath. "We need some sterilized to use now – for Murphy. We need to clean this wound once I get it stitched." She pulled a face. "If I even _manage_ to..."

"You will," Wells promised her.

In that moment, Clarke was almost thankful for his encouragements. It was different than before. _This was familiar._ Back when she was free and they were friends, he was the one that was always encouraging her and helping her study.

Wells pulled something out of his backpack and tossed it to her. She caught it and turned it over a few times. It was a miniature sewing kit.

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. "I've read about people sewing themselves shut in books. That's possible, right?"

"It might be." Clarke opened the kit and examined the contents. There were a few needles and some black thread, which was pretty standard. She pulled the thread out and rubbed it between her fingers. She shook her head. "I need something tougher than this. It'll snap instantly."

She put the thread back in the box, but pulled out the needle. As she examined it, her thoughts were already racing. She had to work with what she had, or Murphy wouldn't survive. She had to do something for him – not only because she was the only one with medical training in their group, but because he got injured saving _her._

She thought for a moment, the needle still twirling in her fingers. Then, she froze. A thought came to mind, bringing her to a complete standstill.

Out of options, she dove back into her backpack, the needle clutched in her palm. As she dug, Wells pulled out the rest of the contents of his bag.

"I have gauze, bandages, and a pack of water sterilizers, too."

"Keep the gauze out," she asked, her mind preoccupied with searching. Finally, she pulled out what she was looking for. Holding the tiny box in her hand, she turned to the rest of the group. "I've got an idea."

Murphy's eyes were wide as he stared at what she had in her hand. "No. Freaking. Way." Murphy was determined when he seen what she was holding. In one hand, she held the needle from the sewing kit. In the other, she held the package of dental floss. "Don't you dare come near me with that."

Clarke locked eyes with him, attempting to be reassuring. "It'll work," she told him. "And you need stitches – it's not a question. This is the only thing that we have that is strong enough to keep the wound closed." Murphy still didn't look convinced. "You'll keep ripping the wound open if I don't – it won't work if I use the string. It'll get infected."

Charlotte gagged from across the room, breaking the silence. "She's not serious, is she?" she asked who Clarke presumed was Lincoln.

"She is."

Clarke hadn't moved, her eyes still locked on Murphy's. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat and he looked like he was going to get sick. His eyes travelled slowly from the box of floss to her own.

"I won't lie to you. This won't be pretty or easy."

He forced a smile onto his face. "Do I look like quitter to you?" he asked.

Clarke took him in honestly. With blood and sweat covering his body, he looked like he had been through hell. _He practically had been._ He charged into the bloodbath and saved her, only to run for hours afterwards.

"No," she said. "You're a survivor."

He grimaced. "Damn right, I am." A look of determination settled over him. "Let's do this."

With his agreement, Clarke got to work. She reached into her own bag and pulled out the empty water canister. As she examined it, she turned to Raven. "Raven, can you hand me the water." The girl didn't move. Clarke glanced up at her. "Please?" She lifted her hand that held the supplies for suturing. "I need it to sterilize the needle."

"We need it to drink," she insisted. Her hands were locked tightly around the neck of the bottle. "We're already really low. I don't think we can sacrifice any. Can't you use a dirty needle?"

"Screw you, too," Murphy grumped from the ground. Raven had the manors to look guilty.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just saying. We're _all_ thirsty. We need to split this water between all seven of us. We don't have _any_ to spare." Clarke frowned slightly, but she couldn't argue with that logic. Raven was right. They needed to drink – they couldn't spare a single drop for anything else.

"Will sterilizer work?" Lincoln asked. He had pulled out the gel sanitizer from his bag and tossed it to her. She examined it. After a short moment, she nodded.

"It'll have to." Clarke set the supplies down on her backpack and sanitized her hands. She looked at Murphy's wound. "This is going to hurt, but I'd much rather you be in pain now than dead in a few days."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, his tone cheeky despite being in pain.

Clarke continued to sterilize her materials, the room silent behind her. There was tension between the group; nobody knew what to do.

Finally, she turned to face Lincoln. "Get her out of here," she said, referring to Charlotte. "You don't have to stay either. None of you do," she said, her eyes flicking over Lincoln and Raven. "It's not going to be pretty."

Charlotte didn't argue. She willingly followed Lincoln outside with the squirrel he prepared. She could hear them strike up a conversation with Monty outside. Raven hung hesitantly by the staircase, her hands wrung together.

She turned to Wells, her mouth open. Just as she was about to ask him to hand the medical supplies to Raven, but stopped herself. He had watched her perform surgeries before. He had helped her study for her exams. He knew what she would be talking about if she asked for help, and he wouldn't freeze up when he seen the blood. _They had done this before._ They had been a team before, working together in labs.

Her mind was already made up. She couldn't risk a second thought. "Wells. I'll need your help on this one."

For a brief moment, she could see him freeze. While he processed her request, she turned back to the supplies, continuing to sanitize them. After a moment, he nodded and moved into position by her side.

 _Where he had been many times before._

"Got it." He dropped to the floor beside her and reached for the sanitizer. Clarke couldn't ignore the feeling of how _right_ this was. It almost scared her how normal things felt.

Her mind instantly wondered back to where they were only hours ago. _Her father being ripped away. His arms around her body, trying to pull the pieces of her together. Her rage building at him. The pain and confusion in his eyes. The way her heart broke when she realized she was the true one at fault. The way her mother tried to comfort her._

"Raven," Clarke said, trying to pull her thoughts away from Wells and her pain. "Are you staying?"

"If you need my help."

"I do." She turned to her. "You'll need to keep Murphy quiet."

Raven's eyes widened and she chocked on the air in her lungs. "Excuse me?"

"He's going to want to scream," Clarke explained. She locked eyes with the other tribute. " _He can't._ We'll draw attention to ourselves and we'll die." Raven looked terrified. "It'll be okay. You don't have to see any blood if you don't want to. Just sit on his other side."

"Really? Reyes?" Murphy groaned.

Ignoring him, Clarke gestured in the direction of a backpack. "Grab the thermal blanket from Lincoln's bag. On the stairs."

She didn't have time to complete her thoughts, her mind was already racing, trying to figure out how to do this fast and properly. She only had one real shot at this, and she had to be fast. She didn't want Murphy in any more pain than she needed him to be. _Be fast. Be accurate._

She turned to his wound, refocusing her mind. It had been a long time since she had done any medical treatments on a living and breathing person.

Raven dropped to his side, the blanket in her hands. They shared an uneasy glance.

Without looking up, Clarke spoke. "Murphy, bite down on that."

He scoffed. "I won't scream," he said.

She looked away from his wound, a serious expression on her face. "I'm going to be removing an arrowhead from your arm, cleaning it, stitching it back up, and bandaging it. _Without anesthetic and without proper medical equipment_. You're going to scream whether you want to or not." Murphy's expression remained strong. "Even if you don't scream, you're going to break a tooth or bite your tongue if you don't have something in your mouth. This isn't going to be easy."

Finally, he relented. He took the blanket from Raven's hands and stuffed it in his mouth. He gave Clarke a dry expression.

"Happy?" he mumbled, his words distorted from the blankets.

Clarke didn't respond.

She laced the floss through the needle and handed it to Wells to hold. _She was ready._

She glanced at Murphy, who was staring at her with a morbid curiosity. "I'm going to start. Try to keep quiet and still. I'll be as fast as I can." She turned to Raven. She looked pale and nervous. "You don't need to watch. Just keep him quiet." She nodded weakly and turned her head to the side, blocking her own view.

Clarke lifted her hand above his injury and sucked in a deep breath. Her hand trembled the slightest bit.

 _She was terrified of messing up. What if she just made this worse? What if she realized she_ couldn't _fix him? What if he couldn't take the pain?_

She didn't think she could handle Murphy withering in pain. She didn't think she could handle the screams that were bound to escape his lips. Just hearing someone in as much pain as Murphy was about to be in terrified her.

She couldn't look at Murphy's face anymore. She had to take a step back. She to distance herself from him.

No. This wasn't Murphy. This was a mannequin from the Capitol. _Yeah._ She could do this. The screams weren't going to be from someone she cared about – they were going to be manufactured.

With fake confidence in her, she started.

As soon as she began the procedure, Murphy's body jolted and clenched up. Wells instantly moved to his side, holding his arm still. Clarke whispered apologies under her breath and tried to work faster. A few more seconds past and he clenched his eyes tightly and made a fist. His nails dug into the palm of his hand, drawing blood.

"I'm sorry," she muttered again, wincing alongside him. Wells and Raven were both silent. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Raven watching Murphy in complete horror. It occurred to Clarke that this must've been the first time she had seen someone in so much pain before.

After only 10 seconds, he let out his first scream. It was absolutely bloodcurdling. Clarke flinched away and she could see Raven do the same. The blanket barely muffled his screams.

"Raven," she muttered, already moving back into position. Murphy let out scream after scream, his face turning a brilliant shade of red from the ferocity of it all. "We need him quiet."

"I'm trying!" she insisted. Her hands hovered over his face, shaking. "I don't know what to do!" Clarke began trying to remove the arrow and he screamed louder. She could feel him completely stiff under her hands.

"Raven!" Clarke said urgently. If any tributes were nearby, they would hear him. _He needed to keep quiet._ Raven moved instantly, pressing her palm against his mouth, a frantic look on her face. Clarke look horrified. "Distract him, not suffocate him!"

Raven removed her hand from his mouth and wiped the slobber off on her pant leg. After a second of hesitation, she lowered her head so she was eye level with him. Their noses were only inches apart.

"Murphy!" she called, her voice shaking. Despite his screaming, she kept her composure. "Murphy," she called again. "Shhhhh. Please." Her voice was getting stronger and more desperate. "You need to be quiet." Still, it didn't work.

Raven pulled back and ran her hand through her hair several times, gathering her composure. Murphy was sobbing now, his cries mingling with his screams of pain. He was on the verge of passing out from the pain – Clarke could tell. She was surprised he was still awake.

With newfound determination, Raven scooted towards him again and placed her hand on his uninjured shoulder, squeezing it gently. When that didn't break him from his pain, she growled and poked his cheek.

His eyes opened sharply and their eyes locked. "Good. Good. Look at me." His eyes were in and out of focus, like he was struggling to stay awake. Clarke half hoped he would pass out at that point, to stop him from screaming. "Clarke, can you stop please? Just for one second."

Clarke pulled her hands back away from his arm. Murphy continued to let out cries of pain, but they weren't as strong as they were before. Slowly, they died down to pitiful sobs. His eyes managed to lock onto Raven's again.

"Good. Murphy." Raven forced a smile onto her lips. Clarke marveled at how well she managed to disguise her own pain. "You're doing good, so good. It's almost over. Clarke said only a few more seconds, alright?"

 _No, she didn't._ She didn't dare say anything though. Raven was clearly trying to comfort him.

"But you need to stay quiet, okay?" Murphy let out a sob and she nodded. "I know. I know. It's hard. It's impossible, but you just said you're a survivor. _So, survive,_ okay?" Raven gestured for Clarke to continue. As soon as she touched his arm again, he flinched and let out a gargled yell. "It's okay," she promised him. "Just look at me. _Look at me."_ Murphy's eyes never left her own. Clarke could see they were blurry and unfocused. "I'm going to talk to you. Alright? I'll tell you a story. And you're going to listen. Okay? Okay." She was rambling, but Clarke was thankful. Murphy was quieting down the more she spoke.

Finally, Clarke removed the arrowhead from his arm. She took the sanitizer from Wells and glanced to Raven, an apologetic look on her face.

"It's going to get a lot worse," she warned. Raven nodded without looking away from him.

As soon as she began to clean the wound, Murphy's screaming intensified. His head went flying back into the wall, but Raven managed to prevent him from getting further injured by placing her hand against his skull.

Raven inched closer to him, forcing him to focus on her as she spoke. "I'm an only child. Like you, right? You said in your interview you're an only child. Well… So am I. I had shitty parents, too." Murphy's eyes reopened and locked onto hers. He looked desperate and broken. "I grew up in District 3 all alone. I don't know my dad - my mom never knew who he was. _And my mom_. She's never been around much." As she spoke about her family life, Clarke worked faster. She didn't know how long the two of them could keep this up. "We always struggled. She… uhm… Well, she would trade my food for drinks."

Clarke traded the sanitizer for the needle and floss from Wells. "Almost done," she promised. "Just the stitches left."

Clarke forgot how hard it was to work on actual people. The dummies in the training area didn't wiggle and try to pull away. They didn't scream every time she looped the needle around. It was made even worse by the fact that she _knew_ the person under her hands.

Yeah, so much for just thinking of him as a Capitol mannequin. That was nearly impossible. As she looked at him, all she could see was the boy who risked himself for her.

Every time he screamed, she grimaced. _This was her fault_. He had taken that arrow for her. She tried to work as quickly and neatly as possible. _Get this done fast. Get this done fast. End his pain quickly. Don't make him suffer._

Raven was still rambling onto him, talking about anything that came to mind. He was clearly tired and near passing out; his intense screams had slowly turned to whimpers and screams without strength.

"His name is Finn. He's a real pain in the ass sometimes, like you I guess, but I love him. He grew up with me. Whenever my mom wasn't around or when she was spent all of the food money on other things, he would bring me over. His parents became mine, in a sort of way." She was smiling as she spoke about him. Even despite the pain of the arena, she couldn't deny that his family made her happy. Even Clarke could see it. "I guess I'm pretty lucky to have him."

"No," Murphy grunted. Clarke was startled. _That was the first word he spoke._ "He's the lucky one," he disagreed. He tensed up and let out a strangled cry as Clarke continued to stitch. He was barely hanging onto consciousness.

"You know, you're implying that I'm not the pain in the ass you make me out to be," Raven commented. Murphy let out another cry. Raven's smile disappeared. "We're almost done. Just a few more seconds." He didn't show any signs that he heard her. "Growing up sucked for both of us, right? Well, I'm older than you, aren't I? So I have more wisdom, right? So, I can tell you that it gets better. Life gets better, no matter how hard it is."

Clarke's hands pulled away from him so she could untangle a piece of the floss she was working with.

"You're wrong," he groaned.

"It does."

"No, you're wrong." His eyes fluttered closed. Clarke was nearly convinced he passed out. Finally, he spoke. "You're wrong. My life doesn't get better. _It won't._ Because I'm stuck in this hellhole."

"Starting again," Clarke warned. He let out a grimace as Clarke continued. He hit bit down on the blanket again and let out a low moan of pain.

"When you get out, you'll see I'm right," Raven promised after a long pause. "It's a shame I won't be around to tell you _told you so._ "

"Almost done. You're doing good," Clarke muttered. She put in the last stitch and tied the knot at the end.

"I got to go to school for something I loved. I got to train to be one of the youngest mechanics _ever._ I worked my ass off, but it was worth it because I got to do what I loved. I was happy."

Clarke used a knife to cut the end of the floss. She handed the needle back to Wells and took hold of the gauze.

Raven forced a smile. "Maybe, one day, you'll be happy too."

Clarke finished wrapping the gauze and tied it off. "Done."

She sat back, and let her arms fall to the ground. Her head tilted towards the roof of the house and she let out a sigh, letting the tension fade from her body. Raven had moved backwards from Murphy, no longer inches away from his face. Wells had dropped Murphy's arm and rested his head against the wall.

Murphy slowly lifted his uninjured arm and ran his fingers over the bandage. He let out a tired chuckle.

"That wasn't so bad."

Raven was the first one to start laughing. She threw her arms around both Clarke's and Murphy's shoulders, pulling them towards her. Murphy let out a grunt of pain as he was moved, but he didn't pull away or make a comment.

Clarke turned to Wells, who was sitting just on the outskirts of their hug. They locked eyes.

Without thinking twice, she reached for him and pulled him into her side. She let out a laugh, the relief and joy overflowing from her.

 _They did it._

It was their first obstacle as a team and they had overcome it. Clarke was exhausted from running all day and then trying to stitch him up as good as she possibly could, but the relief that she felt was undeniable. _It was pure bliss._

Murphy would be okay. The arrow was removed and the wound was sealed. It might not have been the best suture she had done in her life, but she was confident it would hold. He would have a scar when this was all over, but it wound wouldn't kill him. All she hoped was that he wouldn't get an infection in the arena. While she sterilized the needle and her hands as best as she could, it wasn't as clean as she would've liked it.

"Here." Wells pulled out of Clarke's arms and reached across to take the partially used gauze package from her hands. He placed it back into the backpack, which now housed all of the medical supplies.

"Is Murphy okay?" Monty was at the door of the house, looking concerned. He must've realized either something was wrong or they were finished as soon as Murphy stopped screaming. He seen the expressions of pure bliss and happiness on Raven and Clarke's faces. "I'll take that as a yes."

"I'm good," Murphy mumbled. Clarke was once again surprised he hadn't passed out. He was stronger than she gave him credit for.

As if to prove his point, he tried to stretch his arm, but Clarke stopped him.

"Let's wait until it heals a bit," she said, her hand catching his forearm before he could move. "I've never used dental floss to stitch a cut before – I don't know how it'll hold up." He nodded in agreement and relaxed his arm. He turned his head lazily towards Raven. He smirked.

"Thanks, Reyes." She returned his smile.

"No problem."

"I guess you're okay. Just don't tell anyone I said that."

"Sure, Murphy," she snorted. "I'll hold that compliment near to my heart," she teased. "Just remember this next time you want to complain about me."

Clarke smiled slightly at them. Even though they had started off at each other's throats, they managed to put their hate for each other aside that day. First, they ran beside each other as they made their way out of the city, and now, with Raven distracting him.

Even in that moment, she noticed their teasing was different. It was lighter – kinder. Maybe all they needed was few moments of bonding and understanding.

Clarke looked down at her hands and felt a chill settle over her. They were covered completely in blood. Her breath caught in her lungs and she felt a hush settle over her thoughts.

 _Blood. So much blood._

She noticed that it hung heavily in the air again, just like it did in the bloodbath. The metallic taste of it lingered on her tongue.

 _Blood._ She could feel it _all_ over her from their events of the day. She almost forgot that she had it across her neck from where Murphy fell on her during the bloodbath. Mindlessly, she reached up to brush her fingertips across it.

Only a few hours into the Games, and she already had blood on her hands. She was already covered in the blood of people she had cared about.

 _It's from saving someone,_ she reminded herself. _You saved him. You helped._

Still, she couldn't ignore the feeling of dread and panic that filled her in that moment. She felt like she was falling down a hole, unable to escape. It was suddenly hard to swallow.

As if Wells could hear her thoughts, he leaned forward. He shrugged his jacket off and reached for her hand. She let him take her hand without a comment. The small amount of physical contact brought her back down to the ground. Once again, she felt like her feet were solidly planted.

He gently wiped the blood from her fingers, an intent look on his face. Clarke smiled at him.

It felt like time after time again, he was able to bring her back from the moments she felt like she was losing herself. He was able to recognize she was slipping, even after all that time apart. _Like right before the interviews._

"Lincoln's done cooking squirrel," Monty pointed out from the doorway. He turned to Clarke, an odd expression crossing his face. "We need to start rationing."

Clarke took the jacket from Wells and began to rub the blood off her opposite hand, a feeling of worry washing over her again.

It made sense. They barely had food. There were so many of them part of this alliance – so many more than just twenty-four hours ago. Within the last twenty hours, both Murphy and Wells had joined the alliance. That meant there were two more mouths to feed – it was something none of them had accounted for.

"Already?" Murphy complained, his voice sounding strong that before. "We just got here."

"We didn't get enough food from the Cornucopia," he pointed out. "We have two packs of crackers and one pack of dried meat. _That's it_. That's supposed to last us for two weeks – all seven of us." He looked just as worried as Clarke felt. She felt a pang of hurt inside her – she was already failing her alliance. "And don't even mention water. We have one bottle – that's 500 milliliters – to split seven ways." He rubbed his forehead. Clarke felt sick. "We have three other canisters for water, but they're empty. We're not going to last two days."

Clarke shoved her feelings of worry and failure down. _Now wasn't the time._ If she knew one thing from her time in isolation, it was that no hope could kill. If her allies ran out of hope, they were already lost.

She needed to give them hope and confidence that things would be okay. She had to prevent their panic and their worries by being strong. _And that meant hiding her own worries._

"We'll manage," Clarke promised, her voice light. She stood up from the ground and dusted off her pants.

In truth, she wasn't too sure how they would manage. The numbers were looking grim. They all needed water tonight – badly. They had run for hours in the scorching heat and they were all dehydrated.

She remembered that her mother used to tell patients to aim for 3 liters of water every day. _They had a fraction of that to split between all of them._

In that moment, Kane's advice hit her hard. He warned her about this. It wasn't tributes that would most likely kill all of them – it was the elements, starvation and dehydration.

They weren't even a day into the arena and she was realizing how impossible this would be. They needed water to survive. Without it, she doubted they would last more than two more days.

Lincoln walked back in the house with Charlotte on his heels. In his hands was their food, if she could even call it that. She didn't think it would feed one of them, never mind seven.

"I can see I'll be going to sleep for dinner tonight," Murphy said sarcastically. Nobody had the heart to laugh.

The rest of the group turned to her, each one of them wearing nervous expressions. _They were looking to her for answers she didn't have._ She wished she had them. She wished she knew what to do.

"Let's divide the squirrel evenly for tonight," Clarke decided after a moment. _What else could she do?_ She couldn't very well hold a lottery over who gets to eat that night. This was the only choice.

Huh. An oxymoron. Clarke couldn't deny the clear contradictions in her thoughts. She never really had a choice to begin with.

"How much meat will that be?" she asked. Lincoln examined the animal.

"One bite."

"Great."

She chewed on her lip and tried to work out a solution. She didn't want to open up any of their food they got from the backpacks. She didn't know what the future might bring for them. For all she knew, that's all the food they would have for the rest of their time in the arena. This animal might be the only one they catch all week.

The water was another issue. They only had a single bottle to split between all of them. She could feel that her throat was scratchy and her tongue was heavy already. Dully, she could feel a slight headache forming, an ever so present reminder of her lack of water.

She didn't know if they would ever find a source of fresh water to fill their other bottles with. Once again, what they had in their possession might be the only water they had. How could the seven of them dream of surviving off so little water? It was impossible. Even surviving off that amount of water for one day felt impossible.

Looking around at the faces of her friends, she realized they would have to chance it. Right now, they were hungry and thirsty. What good would it be to save it all for when they really needed it if half of them were dead before that time came? They would drink the water they had and deal with that problem tomorrow.

She reached into the backpack where Raven had been sitting. She pulled out the bottle.

"We'll drink half of this tonight and half it tomorrow before we move again," Clarke said. "Tomorrow, we'll need to find water for the rest of the week. If we don't, we might be able to stretch this until our third day in the arena." She doubted it, but she could at least give them something to hold on to. "Is that okay with everyone?"

Monty shrugged. "Rationing is the best option. I see no problems."

Seeing nobody else speaking up, she passed the bottle to Charlotte first. "We each get one sip." Raven looked dejected and Murphy looked pissed.

"We'll need a lot more than that if we want to live," he pointed out.

"We can survive with what Clarke is proposing," Monty interjected. "We won't be comfortable, but we'll be alive." Charlotte passed the bottle to Lincoln next.

"As for food, we'll eat the squirrel tonight. I seen nuts on the second floor that we can eat. In the morning, we'll eat one pack of crackers." The bottle was passed to Monty next.

She chewed on her lip, unsure of that plan. She knew the crackers would make them thirsty and the salt covered it would make them even more dehydrated. She didn't know whether the benefit of food would outweigh the cost of dehydration. She would have to weigh the options during the night.

The bottle made its way to Raven, Murphy and then Wells. As soon as it got back into Clarke's hands, she took a short sip and capped it. She held the bottle at eyelevel and looked at the remaining water left in the bottle.

It was half gone already.

She tried to keep her expression emotionless. _It was fine._ She did say they could drink half of it today. Part of her just wished some more water would magically appear.

She handed the bottle back to Raven.

Charlotte couldn't stop staring at her. She hoped that she didn't look too concerned. In reality, she was worried. _Really worried._ She wished that they had managed to get more materials from the Cornucopia. They were a full day walk away from it now, so they couldn't go back to quickly grab more things. They had to keep moving forward, which meant their chance of finding food and water was uncertain.

Clarke remembered seeing arenas in the past where the only source of water _was_ the bounty collected from the Cornucopia. She hoped with everything in her that it wasn't the case this year.

"Let's all move to the second floor," Monty suggested, glancing nervously out the front door. "We'll be further away from the door, if another tribute does find us. Plus, the window up there should give us the advantage of height."

The sky was dark when they got settled on the second floor. Clarke felt nervous in that moment, but she knew she shouldn't. She was surrounded by people she could trust. She was as safe as she could be while in the arena.

Still, the dark felt sinister.

Lincoln had distributed the food among the group. Clarke could fit the amount of food she had in the centre of her hand. _Three nuts and one strip of meat_.

She didn't let her fear or her want for more show. She sat with her allies, enjoying their presence. She tried to keep her mind off the fact that people who wanted to kill her were in the same arena with her. She tried not to think about the fact that the Capitol wanted her dead, and now they had complete control over her surroundings.

It terrified her. She was finally in their domain and under their control. If they wanted her to die, they could light a fire in the forest and trap her. If they were sick of her being alive, they could kill her and nobody would bat an eye.

It happened all the time. Tributes had unfortunate encounters with traps set by the Capitol. Tributes would die because of mutts or other traps the Capitol created – not from survival issues or other tributes.

 _What was stopping them from killing her right there?_

She tried not to think about it too much as she chewed on her food.

It seemed like her group had their minds occupied with other things as well. They didn't speak or joke like they usually did. A heavy weight sat on each of their shoulders.

Clarke could understand why.

 _Kids died today._

 _Murphy got shot today._

 _They were almost out of food._

 _They were going to run out of water._

They weren't doing well. Even though the whole group of them had survived, they didn't celebrate. They knew that any one of them could die at any moment. They knew that tomorrow was going to be worse. They knew that not all of them would be heading out of the arena alive – only one of them could.

Even though they didn't know each other very well, just sitting around each other provided comfort. They were all going through the similar experience – being thrown into an arena, forced to kill children their age. They were ripped from their homes and placed into a television show, all for the amusement of the Capitol and to satisfy their craving for blood.

It was nice being surrounded by people that shared similar pain.

Murphy put himself in one of the corners of the room, distancing himself from the rest of the group. While they all banded together to help him today, the truth was, she still didn't really know him. He had joined their alliance the previous night and she knew next to nothing about him.

She trusted him though, and she knew the others did too. He had thrown himself in harms way for her and got injured because of it. The others knew that he was trustworthy just from that and that was enough for Clarke. He was a fighter and a survivor.

Monty and Raven sat close together a fair distance from Murphy. Raven had fallen asleep early and Monty wasn't too far behind her. Raven rested her head on Monty's shoulder and Monty rested his on her head as they slept. Clarke was glad they managed to fall asleep so easily. She doubted she would be able to sleep.

Charlotte was given the thermal blanket for the night, as well as a backpack to rest her head on. Her back was pressed against the side of Lincoln's legs, but he didn't seem to mind. He was protective over her, there was no denying it. Clarke remembered how he stood, a solid and unmoving force in front of her during the bloodbath. She wondered how much of the horrors Charlotte had witnessed that day.

As she slept, he watched the horizon out of the window. His head lounged against the wall, his face made of stone as he gazed at the treeline. Wells sat between Lincoln and Clarke, his eyes glued to the night sky as well.

Clarke couldn't take her eyes off of Charlotte. She was too young to be here. She was too young to have to watch other children die. She was too young to have to worry about having enough food and water. _She was too young._ It wasn't fair.

Really, it wasn't fair for any of them. She wondered how Lincoln managed to stand his ground during the bloodbath. He cared about humanity and life so much; how did he manage to stand on the outskirts of the Cornucopia as children died? How did he resist the temptation to run into the fight to try and save as many people as he could?

When the anthem started, Clarke jumped. Her hand twitched towards the sword laying by her side. When she realized there wasn't a threat, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves.

She glanced around the small room. Lincoln and Wells were the only other ones awake. While Lincoln had continued to watch the night sky intently, Wells had turned to her when she jumped. He smiled briefly at her. She glanced away, suddenly too overwhelmed and too nervous by what was going to follow the anthem.

Her eyes locked onto the glowing blue sky, her heart in her throat. The deceased tributes' faces were going to appear in the sky any moment.

 _Please don't be Bellamy. Please don't be Bellamy. Please don't be Bellamy._

She could already imagine his face staring down at hers from the stars. She didn't know what she would do in that moment if her fear did come true. _She wasn't supposed to care._

If that was the case, then why did it feel like she was about to get sick from worry.

The first face to appear in the sky was John Mbege's – the tribute from District 7. His brown eyes were so full of life in the photo projected across the arena.

Clarke rubbed her face tiredly and suppressed the wave of relief that flooded over her. She knew it was terrible to be relieved that someone had died, but, to her, his image in the sky meant something more.

She knew the faces in the sky were shown in the order of districts. If they jumped straight to District 7, that meant all of the tributes in front of him lived.

 _Bellamy lived._

 _Octavia lived._

Clarke could almost cry with happiness. _They survived the first day_. They had managed to survive the bloodbath. She wasn't surprised, but she was relieved. She didn't know how she would react if she seen his face in the sky.

 _It was only a matter of time until she did._

She squashed that thought. _Now was not the time_. For now, he was okay. She didn't have to think about that. She _couldn't_ think about that.

She didn't know the tribute from District 7 well, but she had gotten to know his face. He was always behind her in the lines – the chariot behind hers, the seat behind her in the assessment waiting area, the spot behind her in the interview line. They never spoke, but it was still weird seeing his face. _It was eerie knowing he was dead._

The next face in the sky was his district partner's – Maya. The same went for her; while they never spoke, Clarke grew used to her smiling face and her soft voice. She didn't know if she had a family or if she was in an alliance, but she couldn't help but wonder in that moment.

The next face to appear in the sky made Clarke completely freeze. A shiver went down her spine and Clarke swore she could've been sick in that moment.

 _It was the girl from District 9._

That was the girl that attacked Clarke in the bloodbath. _She_ kicked her in the ankle, most likely breaking it. _She_ had left her in the grass gasping for air. _She_ hadn't even looked back to see what came of her.

 _She had contributed to her death._

If Clarke didn't kick her to the ground, she might've still been alive. The girl from District 9 – Zoe – had been doing what she had to for survival. She could tell she was just a kid trying to survive. _She didn't have hate in her eyes._ She didn't look bloodthirsty like Ontari had the night on the roof. She looked like a young girl trying to find a way back home.

 _Now she was dead._

Clarke did that. Clarke helped kill a girl.

As Clarke struggled to come to terms with her death, the next image to fill the sky was the girl from District 10. She hadn't spoken to her before, or noticed her before really. The next face was the boy from District 11. She remembered that he was good with the slingshot and he liked to wear hats, but that was it. She hadn't spoken to him before, just like the others that had been killed that day.

As she watched the images flash across the sky, her hands shook and her vision became blurry. While she wasn't the one who killed the girl from District 9, she played a large part in it. She felt terrible.

The last face was the girl from District 12. _District 12._ Clarke remembered seeing her at the very start of the Games – she had the platform right beside hers. She had run beside her for a while, both trying to be the first to get to a weapon. She wondered how she managed to live, while the girl right beside her didn't.

The anthem ended and the sky went dark again. She pulled away from the window and turned to Lincoln and Wells. They stared at each other for a long moment, each too tired to say a word, but each needing _something_ from another human. They needed to be reassured that things were okay, even though they all knew it was not.

Clarke adverted her eyes and looked out the window. The sun had completely disappeared, taking away the heat. Just as she suspected, the arena felt cold without the heat of a sun. It was strange; the arena had the appearance of a forest, but the climate change like a desert.

Finally, she turned to Lincoln. "I'll take first watch," Clarke offered. "I'll wake you in four hours?" He nodded his head, his eyes already closing.

With that, she climbed off the floor, her sword already in her hand. She climbed down the stairs to the first floor without glancing in Wells' direction.

The first thing she realized when she got to the ground floor was the smell of blood still lingering. She wrinkled her nose and walked across the room. She sat on the ground closest to the door and propped her chin on the windowsill. She looked up at the sky and sighed.

 _The stars were not the same._

They weren't the same when she didn't have someone to look at them with. They weren't the same as they were the previous night, when her and Bellamy dreamed about living in the stars. They weren't the same. They weren't freeing.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to focus on anything but Bellamy. She didn't have the time or the energy to think about him. _She had to survive_. She couldn't think about him; it would hurt her too much.

 _She couldn't think of him or what could've been._ She couldn't torture herself with _what if._ She couldn't send herself in circles, regretting not kissing him.

Even if it was the truth.

 _She regretted not kissing Bellamy Blake._

She regretted not rocking forward the one inch to meet his lips half way. What did she have to lose? She already cared about him. She was already going to miss him. Not kissing him didn't prevent herself from trusting him or liking him.

She was broken from her thoughts as someone came down the stairs behind her. She jumped again, her heart racing in her chest. _Being in the arena made her jumpy_. She turned around to see Wells walking towards her, a knife clutched in his hands. It hung loosely at his side, showing he was not a threat. He smiled at her the slightest bit and dropped to the floor beside her.

Clarke wasn't sure what to think about him. She was so confused.

He went against her wishes by following her and joining her alliance. She told him she didn't want to be near him because she didn't trust him. She didn't want to be in the arena with someone she couldn't trust. It frustrated her to no end that he knew what she wanted, but ignored it.

If he truly wanted her forgiveness, would he actively be going against what she wanted? She thought that if he was truly sorry, he would be doing anything in his power to prove it to her. How would going against her wishes proving that he regretted his actions?

But earlier that evening, when she was stitching Murphy back up, things seemed to click. They worked together as a team, just like they did before he betrayed her. And even before they went into the arena, they had slowly fallen back into the pattern of friends; he encouraged her before she went on stage, she comforted him after his interview.

Was it possible to get back to that? Was it possible for her to truly forgive him and just… _move on_? She wouldn't deny that it felt so good and so right to be alongside her best friend, doing what she did best. It was safe. It was familiar.

 _But was she ready to move on?_ Was she ready to put their painful past behind her?

"You're not tired?" Wells asked her, breaking the silence. Clarke shrugged slightly and rested her head against the windowpane. She still couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"Exhausted," she admitted. She couldn't lie to him. "But someone has to keep watch. Who would I be if I asked someone else to stay up while I got some sleep?"

"You would be human."

Wells made the answer too simple. It wasn't that easy – nothing was.

"I was the one to organize this alliance," she pointed out. "A good leader sacrifices their own comfort for others, right?" She shrugged. "This is just one of those things." She would bear anything for her allies.

"You are a good leader," he said. "You went head first into the bloodbath. _I know you._ You could've easily asked anyone to go in while you waited with Charlotte, yet, you didn't."

"Because it wouldn't be right."

He smiled gently. "Exactly." He shifted to rest his head against the windowsill too. "You lead us to safety – all of us. We _all_ survived – all seven of us. Do you think that would've been possible without you? Do you think we all would've survived if you hadn't lead us?" Clarke glanced over to him and their eyes locked. "You stitched Murphy up with dental floss and a sewing needle." Wells smirked. "Badass."

Clarke couldn't help but smile fondly and turn away from him. "If anything, Murphy's the badass in this situation," she pointed out. He didn't reply, so she kept talking. "I'd rather just stay up. It's not really a big deal. Plus, I wasn't the only one who did things," she said. "Everyone played a part in us getting here today. We wouldn't have made it this far without any of them." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, heavily considering her words. "You, too, Wells. We wouldn't have made it it here without you too." He nodded as a thank you and turned to look out the window.

Silence consumed them. Clarke settled in against the wall, her eyes trained on the treeline. The night was completely silent which terrified her. _Where were all the animals?_

"You didn't read my letter," he pointed out after a long moment. It wasn't a question; he already knew she didn't. Clarke kept her eyes locked on the trees. She could see him shifting awkwardly beside her.

"I didn't want to read it before the Games, and I haven't had a chance since we got in the arena," she explained. She hoped he understood. She wasn't exactly avoiding reading it because she didn't want to know _. She wanted to know_. She trailed her fingers over the face of the watch, her mind drifting to the damp piece of paper underneath. "But I have it. I planned to read it."

"Thank you," Wells said, his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit. "That's all I ask."

Clarke swallowed thickly and searched for a spark of confidence inside her. _She would need it._

"I _planned_ to read it," she clarified, her voice strong. She turned to face him completely. He looked hurt and confused by her words, so she continued. "I don't want to read it anymore. I want you to _tell_ me." He looked shocked. She hoped she wasn't asking too much.

When Wells didn't say anything, she could feel pain spread through her chest. "Please tell me the truth," she asked, her voice breaking. "I know you don't owe me anything, but I need to know. I need to know the truth."

Wells glanced around them and she knew what he was thinking – she was thinking the same thing. She wondered where the hidden cameras were. She had a feeling they didn't need to be vague in this conversation. There was no chance that the Capitol would show them talking about how he got her dad murdered on television, no matter how vague they were.

For a brief moment, she was worried something terrible might happen to her or the people she loved for talking about it. Then, she remembered that the Capitol was aware Wells knew about the secret. The only reason she was locked-up, put in isolation and threatened was because she had made an attempt to go public. She was the only one who was a risk.

"Clarke, I…" He ran his hands over his eyes. In that moment, he looked exhausted and broken. She wondered what was going through his mind. "I… I didn't want you to find out. When it happened, I told myself you would never know. I wanted it to die with me." Her bottom lip quivered. "But, when I heard your name called at the reaping, I knew you deserved the truth. You deserved to know what actually happened. I just knew I had to tell you. I knew I couldn't let you go into these Games alone either. So, I volunteered." He locked eyes with her. She could sense the turmoil inside of him.

His words alone inflicted even more confusion within her. _This was not the attitude of a killer._ This was not how she imagined this conversation going.

 _"_ _You deserved to know what actually happened."_ His words rang in her head. Had he told her a lie before? Was the story she knew not the truth?

At the start of the Games, all she expected was to learn about _why_ he did what he did. As the Games went on, she got the feeling that things were not as it seemed. His words only confirmed that.

" _Please_ , Wells. I want to know the truth. I need to know." She brushed some tears off of her face and tried to prevent her bottom lip from trembling. He looked out the window intently, refusing to look in her direction. She let out a broken sob.

She thought back to the day her dad was taken again. He was there when it happened. He was the first one to try and comfort her after he was taken outside. And she pushed him away when she finally put the pieces of the puzzle together. When she realized that the only way Jaha would've found out about anything was because Wells said something, she pushed him away.

 _"_ _You did this! I trusted you! You couldn't keep your mouth shut, huh? Had to go talking to your dad about the_ wrong _things my father has done."_

 _"_ _Clarke, I-"_

 _"_ _I don't want to hear it! Get out."_

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Clarke. I truly am."_

When he left, she remembered crying into her mother's arms _._ Her words echoed in her ears.

 _"_ _I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry."_

 _"_ _It's not your fault, Clarke. It's not your fault."_

Before, those words seemed like they were only spoken for comfort. It reminded her of when she was a child and she made a mistake, her mother would comfort her by assuring her it wasn't her fault. It was similar to how she lied to her allies in the arena; she told them things would be okay, when she knew she couldn't promise that. _It was just for comfort._

But, now… Now, they seemed to hold a different meaning. After spending a week with Wells, they meant something different to her.

"Wells, please. I need to know the truth." Her mother's words rang in her ears. _It isn't your fault, Clarke._ A sense of dread filled her when she realized the implications of them. What if they weren't for comfort? What if they were said with their actual meaning in mind? _What if it_ wasn't _her fault?_ "Tell me this was you. Tell me you had a good reason." He adverted his eyes and looked towards the ground. "Please." She was begging at this point. "Tell me you did it. Tell me it isn't what I'm thinking." She could feel hysteria rising in her chest. Her voice shook. Her chest felt deflated.

After what felt like the longest moment in her life, he still hadn't said anything. She focused on her next words carefully. She felt all of her emotion drain out of her in that moment, distancing herself. _She was trying to protect herself from pain._

"It was my mom, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice raspy. "She's the one who told your dad." It wasn't a question. With every word she spoke, she felt more and more sure about her conclusion. It broke her heart, yet set her free at the same time. After a long moment, he looked back up at her.

Just seeing his eyes, she knew. _This wasn't him._ He didn't do it.

She burst into tears at that, a wave of pain hitting her. She felt the pain all the way to her gut and through her arms. Her head fell into her hands.

"I knew how you would feel," he said, his voice coming out in a whisper. "I had to protect you," he responded, his voice just as broken as she felt. She felt her heart shatter further. All of this time, she had been hating the wrong person. _Wells didn't tell his father._ Abby did _. Her mother got her father killed._ "I didn't want you to hate your mother. I knew you needed her." He reached out for her. She grasped his hand in hers like her life depended on it. "You didn't need me."

"You were my best friend!" she sobbed, a flair of pain passing through her chest. Her heart clenched painfully. "Of course I needed you." She wiped her cheeks franticly. "My dad was murdered. My mom was a wreck. I thought my best friend was a traitor. I was alone, even before I was sent to isolation." She let out a sob.

This whole time, she had been hating the wrong person. This whole time, she was angry with Wells for betraying her, but, in reality, he was her most faithful friend. He didn't want her to lose faith in her own family, so he sacrificed himself instead.

When he was maybe the only one in Panem she could trust, she was hating him.

 _Oh, gods._ She hated him and she was so mean to him. Suddenly, she realized all of the mistakes she had made over the last few weeks while they were in the Capitol. When he was, once again, trying to be a good friend, she pushed him away.

"You let me hate you," she said, her voice broken and lost.

He forced out a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. His words were genuine as he spoke. "What are friends for?"

Somehow, her chest hurt even more with that statement. She tried to blink the tears out of her eyes. "How could you forgive me?"

"It's already done." Clarke fell into his chest and his arms wrapped around her shoulders. Just like that night all those months ago, it felt like his arms were helping keep the pieces of her soul in place. "It's all forgiven. It's okay." He rested his chin on top of her head. "It's okay."

Her father was dead and it was her mother's fault.

 _Nothing was okay._

* * *

 **I'm so sorry, but here is a long author's note (I know… you just read a really long chapter AGAIN and now here's a long note. Sorry!)**

 **First of all,** I wanted to talk about something important to me in this chapter (and this whole fic, really). I wanted to talk about Raven and her medical condition. This chapter introduced the idea that Raven had a spine injury that resulted in an injury in her leg and has chronic pain (similar to in the show). It was important for me to keep her medical condition similar to canon because I feel like it's such important representation and I do not want to take that away in this fic.

The cause of this is different than in the show (Murphy shooting her vs her getting injured at work). This is mainly because I couldn't work the parallel of Murphy shooting Raven into this fic. Like I said, to me, it was very important to keep this medical condition in this fic because of the representation and also because I feel like it's an important aspect in Raven's life. Even though it isn't an exact parallel to what happened on the show, I felt like it was important to include.

I changed things from canon that I debated about for a long time. I tried to keep the idea of what happened to Raven medically the same (spine injury, resulting in leg injury), but I also knew I had to change a few things to adapt it to this universe. Considering the technology is much more advanced in the Capitol than it was on the ground (on The 100), I felt like it would make sense to change her treatment the slightest bit (ex. she got treatment faster, the technology used for the treatment was more advanced, etc). I hope this doesn't come across as me trying to erase her medical condition. Like I said, it was very important that I keep this aspect in this fic. I just felt like it would fit best with a few changes.

I acknowledge I do not have chronic pain or a condition like Raven does, so if I have done or depicted anything negatively, please let me know. That is 100% not my intention! If anyone would like to discuss this, please reach out. I am willing and eager to learn if I have made a mistake. As I mentioned last chapter, there are a bunch of ways to get in contact with me (a comment, through Twitter, or on Tumblr). I am open to discussions and I value feedback/concerns!

 **Secondly,** I wanted to quickly mention that I do not have any medical training, so all of Clarke's medical treatments are made up. All of my guesses are based off whatever I might have picked up from Grey's Anatomy. Please, just consider everything you have read about medical treatments to be completely 100% false.

 **I also wanted to put a list of tributes that are in the arena (I posted this once back in chapter 4). The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter. I will try to keep up with this every chapter.**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari

District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia

District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven

District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna

District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo

District 6 Male: Wells  
District 6 Female: Clarke

 **District 7 M: John Mbege  
District 7 F: Maya**

District 8 M: Lincoln  
District 8 F: Charlotte

District 9 M: Illian  
 **District 9 F: Zoe**

District 10 M: Dax  
 **District 10 F: Fox**

 **District 11 M: Miller  
** District 11 F: Harper

District 12 M: Atom  
 **District 12 F: Emori**

 **As for the chapter in general, a lot of stuff happened! Good ol' bonding time with Clarke and her allies. I really loved writing that ending portion with Wells.**

 **I should also mention, the end conversation with Wells/Clarke is heavily based off the similar conversation on the show (season 1, episode 3). I tried to have these two conversations mirror each other. While they aren't exactly the same, there are some parallels and I did use some dialogue from the episode.**

 **I hope you enjoyed! The next update won't be for a little while. I wrote 120k words of Bellarke within the last 30 days, so I've decided it's probably best if I take a mini-break! I expect the next chapter to be up before the end of the month. And… well, I can't stay away for long so it might be sooner than that. I'll keep everyone updated on my Twitter (Pawprinter1) and Tumblr (pawprinterfanfic).**

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews, favourites and follows are so appreciated. Thanks for everyone for the constant love.**

 **Paw**


	22. Chapter 22: We Deserve Happiness

**Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! It's been a long time coming. Thank you for being so patient as I took my little break! It was great to be able to step back and rejuvenate. I really appreciate all of the lovely and encouraging comments people left me as I was gone.**

 **I don't have much to say about this chapter, other than to please mind the warnings! This chapter includes darker themes (injury, blood, death/character death). As always, this is set in the arena, so violence and gore are both prevalent.**

 **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 22: We All Deserve a Little Happiness**

* * *

Clarke took several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and keep the nausea at bay. She fell to the ground, landing roughly on her knee beside Murphy. Not a second later, Raven was lowered to the ground, Monty's arm never leaving her shoulder. Dead pieces of trees dug into her knee painfully, but she barely noticed.

All Clarke could feel was the dryness of her throat and the swelling of her tongue. Her head felt light and her limbs felt weak. It felt like she could pass out at any second.

 _She was so thirsty._

It was only the second day of the arena and the sun was already at its peak. As soon as the sun rose earlier that morning, they had left the small building they found and went on the search for water. Monty suggested that the lower they got, the more likely there would be some form of water – a puddle, stream, or something more.

It was hard to leave that morning, even if they all knew they had to. Murphy's arm was inflamed and was in more pain than the day before – Clarke blamed that on the lack of adrenaline. Raven was in pain from her leg, too. While she hurt the day before from running, it had got worse overnight. Charlotte wanted to stay asleep. Clarke had to agree with that one; she was so exhausted that she didn't want to think of moving.

 _But they had to._

One canon had already gone off before they even started moving. That ended all arguments and all desire to stay in one place for too long. To live, they had to keep moving. As they made their way across the arena, Clarke wondered who the canon belonged to.

While Clarke wasn't a doctor, she didn't need to be one to see that Raven was in pain. Her arm was slung over Monty's shoulders as they walked, her face twisted. Clarke remembered what Raven said yesterday; the pain increased with too much movement. Whatever treatment she had for her spine injury helped her walk again, but it was like she said – experimental. She was told not to overexert it, yet she was thrown into the arena, where the only way to survive was to push everything – bodies and minds – to the limit.

Six hours later and they hadn't found any water. Murphy wouldn't admit it, but he was seconds away from passing out too. Raven could barely stand from the amount of pain she was in.

Even without an injury, Clarke felt like she couldn't take another step at some points. She felt sick from dehydration, but she tried not to focus on it. Her whole body shook. She felt strangely disconnected from herself – like she was awake, but not fully there.

She knew her teammates were thirsty as well. Nobody had spoken in miles. A few words felt like an impossible task. They were almost out of water, there was no water to be found in the arena so far, they were running low on food, the sun was terrible.

Clarke was never so sure that she was going to die. She felt terrible – not only from the dehydration – but because she was letting her team down. They were counting on her – they needed her to figure out a plan to keep them alive. Walking around aimlessly was not going to keep them alive.

 _But she had no idea what to do._

What else was there to do? She could be yelling into the sky, begging Kane to send down water. It was early though – too early. How many sponsors did she have? How much money were they willing to spend on her? She couldn't ask for water from them – not on their second day.

It was tempting though.

Raven pulled out the bottle of water from her backpack, shaking it as she did. There was a slight sloshing sound. Back home, Clarke would've considered that bottle to be empty. Out here, it might mean the different between life or death.

"Tiny sips, guys," Raven reminded everyone. She uncapped the bottle and took a sip for a split second. Clarke was sure it wasn't enough to even wet her lips. She passed the bottle down to Charlotte.

They needed to find more water. Clarke felt like she could barely move – she knew the rest of her alliance would be feeling the same way. Things wouldn't be getting any easier either; the sun wasn't at its peak, and they planned to walk until they found water. That could very well mean _hours_ of walking.

They weren't going to survive at this rate. It was a terrible thing to think, but she had to swallow the fact if she was going to survive. She could imagine how denial could be a killer out here; if she denied the fact they were dehydrated and there wasn't enough water for them to continue, they would die.

The realization hit her hard. _Gods,_ she needed to figure something out. Clarke rubbed her face tiredly and pushed off from the ground. Her head spun from moving too fast, but she tightened her fist and swallowed thickly, trying to keep her body functioning. She walked up to where Monty was leaning against the tree. He looked exhausted.

"What's the chance of us finding water today if we haven't found it already?" she wondered, her voice cracking. He opened his eye just enough to look at her and shrugged. She knew he didn't have all the answers, but she wished he did. "We can't keep going like this. We're not going to make it."

Clarke pulled the straps of her backpack tighter, hoping _that_ was what was making her uncomfortable – not her thirst. She was getting desperate.

They had divided the supplies between the five backpacks, sorting by its use. Raven was carrying the backpack with the water bottles and sanitizers, Lincoln had the bag with all of the food, Monty carried the bag with the fire starting supplies, she carried the bag with the medical supplies, and Wells carried the one filled with the remaining materials. They didn't have a whole lot, especially since there were seven of them. It would have to make do.

She felt like she shouldn't be saying this only hours into the arena. Really, they hadn't been in there for a full day yet. They shouldn't be struggling to survive.

Lincoln handed her the bottle next. She glanced around at the group, examining their posture. Who needed water the most? They all had their eyes shut and heads sagging. Charlotte already looked like she was half asleep. "Who's left to drink?"

"Everyone took a sip," Lincoln assured her. "There should be enough for you and Monty."

Clarke brought the bottle to her lips and let the tiniest amount of water flow into her mouth. She had to fight every instinct telling her to swallow more – telling her to be greedy. She pulled the bottle from her lips and handed it to Monty.

The water felt good on her tongue and down her throat. Even the smallest sip seemed to bring some life back to her. Her body craved more, but she was rejuvenated by what she had. She licked her lips and glanced up at the sky, shielding her eyes with her hand.

It was almost at the highest point in the sky, meaning it was close to noon. The sun was going to start to dip down again soon, bringing shadows and shade with it. They needed that almost as much as they needed water. She could feel her skin blistering along her neck.

The sun didn't help their water situation either. They needed water. _Fast._

They had gone with a tiny sip yesterday, and two other sips today. They would be out of water after Monty drank, and they still had the rest of the day to go. She didn't want to imagine what would happen if they didn't find water quickly. Even hoping for water before nighttime was pushing it.

She glanced around them. They were standing at the edge of a cluster of trees on the top of a hill. They would be descending into the valley soon, where water would hopefully be. Monty assured her that the lowest points was where water was most likely to be. It made sense. She just hoped logic was on their side.

They had to come up with a plan soon. Did they really want to rely on them stumbling into a source of water? She knew the Capitol and she knew the Games; they wouldn't make it easy. Would it even be possible to stumble into water in the arena? Maybe that was one of the challenges this year – no water.

Gods, that was a terrible thought. She knew it had been done before, but she couldn't imagine surviving in those conditions. She doubted she would be able to.

She glanced to the north, in the direction of the Cornucopia. The first day, they went straight south for hours. That morning, they decided to move north-west. They had been travelling closer to the city that they first landed in, but they kept their distance. They still couldn't see any of the tall buildings. Clarke _had_ been thankful for that.

That was until that moment.

She suddenly wished that they managed to cover more ground that morning – she wished they were closer to the city. At least they would be close to water that way.

"I have a plan," Clarke said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and wet her lips again. The group turned towards her, desperation on their faces. _They were her responsibility. She had to lead them._ "I'll head back to the Cornucopia."

"What!?" Raven snapped, her eyes flying open. "No, Clarke-"

She held up her hand, begging Raven to let her finish her thought. "It shouldn't be more than a few hours run away. I'll get backpacks – as many as I can carry – and come back here." Raven looked panicked. "This is the only way I can guarantee where I'm going will have water and the supplies I need."

"You're kidding me," she hissed. "That's _hours_ away. We ran all day yesterday and we haven't moved that much closer to the city today. You'll never make it."

"And that was running," Monty pointed out, his expression weary. Truth be told, seeing Monty so hesitant made her falter. Wasn't her plan a good one? She steeled herself – it might not have been a good one, but it was the only one. _This was how she could save her friends._ "You're exhausted. You're dehydrated. If you run, you'll just get even wrose. You won't make it there and back safely."

"I'll only have to make it there," she pointed out. "I'll drink as soon as I find enough for all of us. I'll come back as quick as I can."

Monty was shaking his head vigorously. "Clarke, this isn't a good idea. You won't make it." Raven looked queasy. "It's not a good plan."

"It's the only plan we have," Wells said, seemingly taking Clarke's words right from her mind. He glanced back at her, determination in his eyes. Clarke felt a wave of appreciation hit her. She was lucky to have him by her side. "We have no other option." He turned back to the rest of the group. "We have no water. We're low on food. It's only our second day – we can't survive the whole time with the supplies we have." He turned to Clarke, a determined expression on his face. "I'll come with you."

Part of her wanted to argue against him – she didn't want to risk any of her allies. She didn't want to risk Wells. What if he came with her and they got caught? At least, if she was by herself, she wouldn't be hurting anyone she cared about.

The part clinging to life won out. She needed help carrying water. She would need help fighting off tributes, if it came to it. And she would need the company if she wanted to stay alive and stay focused. Even she had to admit it was getting hard to focus on walking straight.

Instead of wasting energy to argue, she smiled gratefully at him.

"I can come too," Lincoln offered. He was already moving, but Clarke shook her head.

While she could accept Wells' help, she couldn't accept his. One person was enough to help carry the water – she didn't need to unnecessarily risk lives.

"We need you here. _With them_." He looked unconvinced. "You're the only one good with a sword. We can't leave the supplies defenceless." _They couldn't leave their friends defenceless._ She didn't want to say that out loud. She didn't want to make her allies think she didn't have faith in their abilities. "Wells and I can manage. The rest of you will stay here and _stay safe_."

"And how will you find your way back?" Raven asked. Her voice filled both annoyance and panic. "We don't have any way to communicate with each other. You won't be able to find us."

Clarke was terrified by that idea. Being alone in the arena was terrifying to her. Sure, she would have Wells, but she would be separated from her friends. She could already feel panic rising in her from the thought of not being able to find them.

She pushed that down. It was a risk she had to take.

"I'll follow the landmarks," she said. She knew it wasn't the best plan, but it was all they had. If this was part of the Games – having no water source – they needed to get to the city as fast as they could. "You guys will be on top of the hill, directly south of the valley." She was already shrugging off her backpack with the medical supplies.

"You don't have to do this," Lincoln insisted.

She turned to him, her confidence unwavering. "We don't know when we'll find water. We can't keep wondering and hoping we discover some. We need a plan and we need it fast." Nobody seemed to bring up an argument. She nodded her head and turned to Wells. "Let's head out."

"At least take the rest of the water," Monty offered. He handed her the nearly empty bottle of water. He shook it and there was a slight sound of water. "There should be enough for a sip each." Clarke accepted it wearily.

"You guys will need to drink too," she pointed out.

"We aren't the ones that'll be running," Monty pointed out, his face grim. She didn't want to think of the pain that was bound to follow in the next few hours. They would be running in the scorching heat with no water, except for a tiny sip each. Even then, it might evaporate by the time they decided to drink it. "Take it. We'll make do." He rested his hand on her shoulder and they locked eyes. She tried not to let the weight of the situation startle her. "Be safe." She smiled slightly.

 _Only two days in and they were already separating._

There was a part of her that was filled with fear. What if they never seen each other again? What if, when they returned, they couldn't find their way back? What if they were discovered by other tributes? She didn't doubt Lincoln's abilities, but she worried that he would be outnumbered. What if they never met again?

She had to save them. _Or she had to try, at least._

If saving them meant sacrificing herself, then so be it.

"If we don't come back in 10 hours, _go._ " Clarke faced each member of the alliance, trying to convey her seriousness. She didn't want them waiting for her forever. She didn't want them risking their lives, standing in one spot without shelter.

"We'll come looking for you," Lincoln promised her. "We won't let you die, Clarke, we-"

"You _will_ let me die," she insisted. Her voice held no room for questions. This wasn't up for debate. She came up with this plan and she was going to risk herself for this plan. "If we aren't back before then, you'll need to move. Find somewhere safe. Don't worry about us." They still didn't look convinced. Part of her felt a flutter of appreciation; she knew these people for no more than two weeks, yet they were willing to risk their lives for her.

When her alliance members, didn't look convinced, she turned to Murphy. "Make sure they listen to me."

He chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know that _I'll_ do what you say?" he questioned. Clarke scoffed.

"You said it yourself, didn't you?" She smirked. "You're a survivor, Murphy. You'll do what needs to get done to survive." He looked amused by that. "10 hours." She looked at her watch. They would have ten hours to get back to the Cornucopia, collect as much water as possible, and make it back to their group. It seemed impossible, but it had to be done.

She didn't want to say goodbye. Goodbye sounded to final.

Instead, she nodded to her group. She hoped this wasn't the last time she would see them.

Then, she was running with Wells alongside her. It was worse than the day before. With every breath she took, it felt like her lungs were set on fire. Her throat was dry and her tongue felt like sandpaper on it. Her lips were cracking and she could taste blood.

 _She was sure she was going to die._

She turned and looked at Wells out of the corner of her eyes as she ran. Just seeing him made hurt spread across her chest. She tried to push it away. So far, she had been successful in keeping her pain and conflict away.

It wasn't easy.

They had a lot of time to reflect and to think as they ran that morning. Most of her thoughts were filled with her family and him.

 _Her family._

She didn't know how to feel. She felt hurt and angry. _No._ She felt worse than that. She felt absolutely destroyed. Her heart felt like it was broken into a million pieces. Her soul felt like it was shattered.

After they talked last night, she remembered falling asleep crying. Even after hours of knowing the truth, it was hard to accept. She doubted that it was fully absorbed by her still. It felt like she was outside of her own body.

Her mother had gotten her father killed. Her _mother_ killed her _father._

It made Clarke sick. She didn't want to think of her mother; she couldn't think of her. Every time she thought of Abby, she wanted to scream and cry and beg Wells to tell her the reasons behind everything – she would beg him for answers he didn't have.

She had blamed Wells this whole time for something he didn't do. She held him responsible for something that wasn't his fault. She felt awful for assuming it was him. She felt awful for pushing him aside.

She pushed him away when he tried to comfort her. She resented him while she was in lockup. She hated him when he volunteered to go to the Games with her. She kept pushing him away when he tried to speak to her, to gain her forgiveness. _For forgiveness for something he never did._ He kept apologizing, but, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that he never admitted to what she was accusing him of.

He _never_ lied to her. He never betrayed her.

He let her hate him, so she wouldn't hate her mother. He was a good man. A better man than she gave him credit for.

 _She hated herself for hurting him._

She had known him her whole life, but she didn't give him the chance to explain himself. She had assumed it was him that got her dad killed. She never gave him the chance to explain what happened, even after a lifetime of friendship.

"It's okay, Clarke," Wells broke the silence after ten minutes of running. His voice was strained. "I forgive you." He knew exactly what she was thinking. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"I don't deserve it." She took in a gasping breath. She had a stitch in her side already. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve your friendship. I don't deserve your kindness. I didn't trust you. I didn't give you the chance to-"

"I forgive you," he pressed again, his voice firm. "You just lost your dad. I knew this was the only way – it was the only option. I couldn't live with myself if I let you hate your mom if I knew I could stop it. We both knew what would happen to you." He left his words vague, on the off chance cameras were on them. She understood though. _They both know that she would be sent to isolation. They both knew that the Capitol would never let her live._ He had let her hate him, because he didn't want her to hate her mother right before she died.

Her heart clenched painfully at the mention of her mother. She was a monster. She didn't deserve to have Wells protecting her.

Instead of focusing on the anger that was burning through her body, she focused on the man beside her. _Her best friend._ Gods, it made her heart grow heavy. He was selfless, and kind, and brave. He deserved a better life.

He didn't deserve to be in the Games.

"You volunteered," she said, her heart feeling like it stopped with that thought. He volunteered. He wasn't reaped, he wasn't forced to be here. _He chose to come._ He chose to be sent to the Games – to what could possibly be his death – because of her. She felt like she wanted to cry, but no tears formed. "You shouldn't have…" It was another thing that he did for her – another thing she didn't deserve. He had given up his life to get her to understand the truth. He gave up his life to talk to her one last time, to make her understand.

Her throat felt tight. It was hard to breathe. She began to slowdown. She felt like if she took another step, she wouldn't be able to breathe. She tried to suck in air through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart and spinning head.

"I don't regret it, you know," Wells said, slowing down to stand beside her. She shook her head, not believing him. Of course he regretted coming to the Games. How much horror had they experienced already? How much was still to come? "I needed to tell you the truth before you died." He swallowed thickly. "Before _I_ died." Those words hit Clarke hard. He was planning to die. She could've sworn her body wasn't capable of feeling more pain, but she was wrong. She could feel it spreading to the palms of her hands.

Wells turned to her, his eyes determined. He reached for her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I came here to tell you the truth, Clarke, but I also came here for _you._ You're my best friend." He squeezed her shoulder gently. She felt her eyes burning with unshed tears. "Even when you stopped loving me, I never stopped loving you. I came here to for you. To protect you."

She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him. Her fingers gripped the material of his shirt tightly, holding him as close to her as possible. Tears were falling freely down her cheeks. She knew she should've been doing anything to conserve water, but she couldn't care about that in that moment. All she cared about was her best friend.

"I love you, too, Wells." Her voice was thick with emotion. She buried her nose against his shoulder. "I'm sorry I stopped loving you. _I'm sorry_." Her body shook from a mixture of sobs racking through her body and exhaustion. His hand rested against the back of her head, seemingly cradling her body.

She felt safe in his embrace, despite the fact they were standing in the middle of a forest, with people who wanted to kill them everywhere. She felt safe and she felt like she was home.

Wells was her home.

"I'm just glad you know now," he said, his voice low. "Even though I didn't want to tell you at time. I knew the truth would crush you." _It did crush her._ He was right. The truth that her mother helped kill her father completely destroyed her.

A thought struck her. If she won the Games, who would she go back to? Her father was dead. Her mother was a monster. Her best friend would've died in the arena.

 _She would have nothing waiting for her back home._

She gripped him tighter with that realization. Her life was falling apart and he was the only thing constant. No matter how hard she tried to push away from him – no matter how hard she tried to move on without him – he was right there.

He had always been watching her and protecting her, in more ways than she ever realized. He was always beside her, supporting her. He subjected himself to the Games just so she wouldn't have to do this alone. He risked everything – he risked his life – just so he had a chance to tell her the truth and comfort her.

He was the only constant thing in her life. He was the only family she had left.

With that thought on her mind, she dug her face tighter into his side, desperate to make up for all those lost hugs _._ "I needed to know."

"That's why I told you. You deserved the truth." He pulled back from the hug, the crooked smile that she loved on his face. Just seeing that made her smile. She missed him. And despite the fact that her whole life was falling apart, she had a reason to smile. _She would always have Wells._ "I'll always love you, Clarke."

"I love you, too."

In that moment, she decided to focus on her family – Wells and her allies. She promised herself to ignore the hurt in her chest. She promised to ignore the fact her mother destroyed her family by murdering her father and by betraying the both of them.

She didn't need Abby. She didn't _want_ Abby. She couldn't risk thinking about her; not in the arena, at least. Out here, one distraction could mean death. She couldn't let herself get distracted by thinking of the pain her mother caused her.

She would never see her again anyways. She was going to die in here – and it was because of her. If her mother never betrayed her father, Clarke never would've been sent to lockup and she never would've been sent to the Games.

She wasn't worth her life. She wasn't going to risk everything – her life and the lives of her new family – because she was hurt and distracted. Nothing good would come from thinking of Abby and her choices.

She couldn't change the past and she couldn't ask her mother to explain her actions. The only possibility was the fact that she would die from being too caught up in her own head and her own grieving. That, or sponsors would see her lack in dedication to the Games and pull out.

No. She wasn't going to let Abby have anymore say in her life. _Screw her._ Clarke wasn't going to let her hurt anyone else that she loved.

Wells jolted away from Clarke's grasp, his hand flying to the knife he had strapped to his hip. Instantly, Clarke went on high alert. She felt stupid – she was putting both of them in danger by stopping to have a conversation in the middle of the woods.

Before she could begin to search for a threat, Wells locked eyes with her, a smile spreading across his face. His hand dropped from the knife on his hip and he straightened up.

She looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

"I hear it." She tried to strain her ears, but she couldn't hear any branches being broken or leafs moving from tributes around them. What did Wells hear? She lifted an eyebrow in question. "Water." Her heart jumped into her throat.

He grabbed her hand and took off in the direction that he heard water. Within seconds of running, she could hear it too. She could hear water lapping against each other, hitting the sides the earth and rippling out.

Her mouth watered just thinking of it. She because extremely aware of the fire burning along her throat. Her mouth was so dry and her throat so sore.

Then she seen it. A large pond, not too far in the distance.

Clarke choked back a sob. She didn't think she ever would've been so happy to see water before. She was so thirsty that she didn't think she would be able to make it through the day without water. Her mouth was dry and her head was fuzzy. She could already tell her decision making was compromised.

 _There it was. Their saviour._

Both her and Wells took off sprinting again, a newfound energy in them. She let out a breathless laugh to match his. Floating in the water was bunches of red seaweed. She knew it could've been poisonous, but, in that moment, she didn't care. The water reflected the sunlight perfectly – although, she was biased. She doubted she seen anything more beautiful and perfect than that lake in that moment.

She dropped to her knees without slowing, and bent down to the pond's edge. She dipped her hand in and let out a small sob. The water was cold, despite the scorching sun beating down on it.

Wells kneeled beside her, his landing much more graceful than hers was. He reached for the pond, his hands cupped in front of him. As he brought his hands filled with water towards his lips, panic surged through her. She smacked his hands away from his lips, spilling the water back into the pond.

"No!" He jolted back, almost as if he had been burnt. Her heart was racing in her chest. "We can't drink like this. We have to sterilize it."

That was all part of the Games. Whenever a tribute got desperate, they did stupid things. _Like drinking from a fresh water source without sterilizing it._ Like letting desperation and dehydration cloud their thinking. Who knew what the Gamekeepers thought would be fun to put in a pond.

She shivered at that thought. She could already imagine the bacteria and pathogens living in this lake, waiting for a desperate tribute to come by and drink the water. She bet sponsors would love watching children suffer right before they died.

No matter how thirsty they both were, it was dangerous to drink without cleaning it first.

Wells was frozen for a moment before he nodded. His arms dropped back to his sides. "You're right. Thanks." His face fell. "We left the sterilizers back with the others."

"We can boil it. Start a fire."

She could barely get the words out. All she was thinking of was how thirsty she was and how much she craved water.

She bent down to the pond and filled the metal water bottle with the water, her hands shaking. She hoped the container withstood the heat of a flame. They didn't really have another option.

They managed to light the fire with the face of Clarke's watch. She was thankful that the small twigs Wells had found were so dry from the heat – the fire was easy to get going. They hid the smoke like they were taught in training, stopping it from rising to give away their location. While they weren't as skilled as Monty was at building fires, they knew enough between the two of them to get one going.

She stuck the bottle over the flame and sat back, hoping with everything in her that it would boil quickly. She glanced over at Wells, who was staring impatiently at the bottle in the fire. She glanced at her watch and waited for the seconds to tick by.

After only a minute, she decided that watching time tick by was a terrible way to pass the time. Every second seemed to drag by.

Instead, she glanced over to the pond. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the red seaweed just below the surface.

"What about the seaweed?" she questioned.

While she had always been good at identifying plants from the woods, Wells did well at aquatic environments. His dad always took him to a nearby lake every summer for a few weeks. Being an only child, he spent most of his time with the wildlife while on vacation.

Wells leaned forward, his hand dipping into the water again to grab a fist full of the seaweed. He yanked it back to shore, broke off a small piece and held it towards the light.

"I don't think this is poisonous," he determined. Clarke wasn't too sure if she should trust his judgement. While she trusted him, she knew how easy it was to make a mistake in identification. "It's identical to the stuff back home, even though that was lighter red. Dad used it for everything back home; teas, sunburn ointment, and even if we got a tiny cut, he would always put it on us."

Clarke snorted. Even though she felt a flash of pain across her chest by him mentioning his father – the man that ordered the execution of her dad – she was amused by him. "Really?"

"Of course." Wells gave her a look, letting her knew he knew what she was thinking. They always liked to poke fun at Jaha's 'do it yourself' way of life. He always tried to treat every sickness, fix every broken pipe, and bake every meal himself. It was something they liked to joke about growing up.

"Sounds like him," she admitted.

Wells chewed on his lip as he thought. "One time, I got bit by a snake out at the lake and we weren't close to any medical facilities. He made a tea from the seaweed, made me drink it, and wrapped it around my leg."

Clarke raised an eyebrow, doubting the story. "And it worked?"

He smiled widely. "I'm still here, aren't I?" _It was a good point_. It was just surprising.

She didn't have any experience with poisons before – District 6 didn't have snakes or any other poisonous animals, so she never dealt with those injuries – but she had a hard time believing a piece of seaweed could save a life.

"Was it even a poisonous snake?" she countered. Wells shrugged.

"Not sure. My dad said this stuff works like magic or something, I don't know." He brought it to his nose and sniffed. He pulled a face and quickly turned his nose to the side. "Yup, this is it. I couldn't forget that stench even if I tried to."

He handed it to Clarke and she took a deep breath. Instantly, she was hit with a terrible scent – one so bad that she had to fight back a gag. It smelt like mould mixed with freshly chopped onions. It was made even worse with an empty stomach. She quickly tossed the bunch back into the water.

As soon as enough time had passed, she removed the bottle and dunked it into the pond to cool it off faster. All she wanted to do was dunk her head into the pond and drink, but she knew she couldn't. She knew that's what the Gamemakers expected. She had to stay on top of the game – stay one step in front of them.

As soon as the water was cool enough, she uncapped the bottle and handed it to Wells for the first sip. He looked uneasy about the fact Clarke wasn't drinking first, but he didn't argue. They were both so dehydrated that she doubted he had the energy to argue.

He took a long drink of water and Clarke watched enviously. She chewed on her lip and tried not to stare too much. _Gods,_ it was like torture. After a few seconds, he handed it to her. She pressed the warm metal to her lips and gulped down the liquid.

She nearly cried.

The water wet her mouth and flowed down her throat. She was never so grateful for something so simple in her life. She could feel her lips coming back to life with the liquid. She couldn't think as she drank the bottle dry. Once the last drop was gone, she reluctantly pulled it away from her lips and turned to Wells.

"We need to get the others," Clarke said, the words forming much easier than they did only moments ago. She filled the bottle with water again and put it back over the fire. "They needed water just as bad as we did. They're going to be thirsty." Well nodded in agreement, already climbing off the ground.

"I'll go," he said. Clarke had an argument on her lips, but Wells shook his head, cutting her off. "Stay here with the bottle. They'll need the water as soon as they get here. You need to keep the fire going so the water will be safe for them when they get here." She hated doing it, but she nodded her head. This was what was best for the group, even if she hated being separated from Wells. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. Just there and back."

She felt uneasy about them splitting up, but it was the best way. He would get their friends as she prepared the water. He looked weary too, but he didn't offer a better plan. _There wasn't one._

She assumed that this was what life in the arena was like; one difficult choice after the next.

She set her jaw. They would only be separated for a few minutes. Things would be fine. "Hurry back," she said. Her smile faltered. "And stay safe."

"You too."

He took off running. Clarke couldn't ignore the fear clawing at her stomach. _What if this was the last time she seen him?_

No. Of course this wasn't the last time. She would see him again. She would see him in twenty minutes.

To distract herself, Clarke turned back to the pond and examined the area. It was clear water, which was beautiful. It reminded her of the one summer she spent swimming with Wells at the lake.

The red seaweed floated everywhere. She tried to forget the smell of it because _gods_ that was horrible. Other than the seaweed, the lake was clear of debris and other plant life.

The pond was small in size; she could see all the way across it. Still, it looked deep. Only a few feet from the edge where she sat, the water turned dark – almost black. She got the feeling that the bottom of the pond was far below.

Somehow, that terrified her. She shifted a few inches backwards, feeling uneasy. The thought of being underwater and drowning was petrifying. She hadn't really thought of it before; there wasn't a lot of water back home in District 6. Sitting there, looking at what seemed to be an endless pit of water… she had to admit she was scared of the idea.

She could almost imagine being trapped at the bottom of the pond, the cool water all around her. She could imagine looking up at the sky, seeing the surface so far away. Her lungs would be burning, desperate for air.

She adverted her eyes and pried her thoughts away from drowning. Somehow, she hadn't really thought about the fact she didn't know how to swim until this moment.

She adjusted the bottle in the fire, doing anything to keep her mind occupied. She could hear it beginning to boil and she was excited. She knew that as soon as her friends reached her, they would need to drink. When they left only twenty minutes earlier, they had been in rough shape. She hoped that they were still okay. She hoped that Wells would find them okay.

She pushed those thoughts out of her head again. Of course her friends would be okay. Of course Wells was going to be okay.

 _Things were fine._

She had to trust that he would find his way back to them easily, and that they would be there waiting for them. She had to hope that there weren't any tributes lurking in the woods, waiting for them to split up.

With that thought, the hairs on her neck stood up.

 _She was alone._

Her heart felt like it stopped and her veins filled with ice.

For the first time they had arrived in the arena, she was left completely alone. If she thought the idea of drowning was terrifying, the idea of being alone was worse. _Because it was real and it was happening._

Somehow, the arena seemed bigger and the Games seemed more dangerous in that moment. She was all alone in a huge arena. Nobody knew where she was except Wells. People were trying to kill her. She had nobody to talk to, nobody to listen to.

Panic filled her. _She felt like she was back in lockup._ Oh, gods, she felt like she was being suffocated all of a sudden. The crushing feeling of loneliness filled her again, making her feel like she was drowning.

She was thrown back to weeks ago, when she was trapped in a tiny room, with nobody to talk to. Nobody was around to hear her voice, nobody was around to listen to. She was all alone and she was panicking.

Clarke pushed her hand into the pond, desperate for anything to shock her mind out of the spiral of thoughts she fell into. It worked well enough. She shook her head and sucked in several deep breaths, desperate to get rid of that panic.

She just needed to keep her mind busy, right? Yeah… That was it.

She lifted the bottle from the fire and placed it into the water, allowing it to cool faster. She watched as the pond water bubbled around the bottle from the heat of the bottle. She tried to focus her thoughts.

 _She wasn't alone. They were coming. They were okay. They would be here soon._

Things were fine. She wasn't alone, not really. Everyone had to be alone temporarily, right?

 _Except this might be forever. Wells might get attacked. He might get lost. She might never see him again. She might be alone forever._

No. No, she wasn't going to be alone forever. She would be reunited with her alliance soon. She would be reunited with Wells and she would realize how silly her thoughts were.

 _This is the arena,_ she told herself. _They're trying to break you._

While that might've been the truth, she couldn't deny the fact that it was working.

Just as she thought that, she could've sworn she heard a rustle from behind her. She froze completely and her heart turned to stone. Her mind went blank and she felt her lungs freeze. She strained to hear anything, her heart racing wildly in her chest.

Just when she thought she might've been imagining things, she heard it again.

 _Another rustle._

She couldn't be imagining this. No – her mind wasn't cruel enough to play this trick on her. This wasn't the wind, either. She could tell the difference between the wind in the top branches of a tree compared to movement against the forest floor.

Someone was by her.

She was still completely frozen despite hearing movements over and over. That couldn't be Wells, no matter how much she wanted it to be. He just left ten minutes ago. If he was lucky, he would _just_ be returning to their group of friends.

A branch snapping pushed her over the edge. She unfroze and tried to move as silently as possible. It wasn't a question about _if_ someone was coming – she was positive about that. Now, she had to be prepared _when_ they came. She climbed to her feet hastily and grabbed her sword a few feet away from her. She stood, poised to attack, and tried to listen for anything else.

 _There._ Her whole body jolted as a moan rang through the silent air. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She could've worn that whoever was out there must be hearing it.

She crouched lower and locked her eyes on where she thought the rustling came from. She seen some of the leaves move again, just to the right of where she was looking.

 _Shit._ Okay, something was coming and she was all alone. Someone was out there and her allies were coming this way, completely unprepared to deal with a threat. They would be tired and thirsty and distracted – whoever this was could hurt someone.

Obviously they didn't know she was here, or they would already by attacking her. Good. She had the advantage, at least. Part of her wanted to keep it that way and slip into the forest, hiding away from whatever threat was coming.

But she couldn't. She refused to. Her friends were coming – they needed her to protect them. She couldn't lead them into a fight.

She would have to deal with this on her own.

She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly in her hands, her mind foggy. She tried to remember Bellamy's words, she really did, but she couldn't. All she could remember was _who_ she was fighting for. All she could think about was holding onto that sword and not letting go.

She inched forward, her heart racing. She avoided all of the dead branches on the forest floor. It was impossible to be completely silent, but she hoped she wouldn't alert whoever was out there that she was coming.

The only way she could win this fight was if they were unprepared. It didn't feel right to attack someone that wasn't ready to fight, but, then again, what _was_ right about attacking someone at all? There was no honour in the Games. They wouldn't give an advantage to her, so she wouldn't give one to them.

As she inched forward, she kept hoping she wasn't walking towards her death. _Maybe this wasn't a tribute at all._ Maybe it was another squirrel, like that first day.

She wasn't an idiot though. She could tell it was something larger than a squirrel from the amount of branches it was breaking. She could tell it was human from the sounds it was making.

Clarke held her breath and gripped her sword tighter, feeling it already sliding out of her grip. With a steadying breath, she pulled back the leaves, her sword raised to strike.

On the forest floor, a young man laid. She nearly swung her sword at him, but stopped herself. She froze, her sword inches away from hitting his neck.

 _He was injured._

He was laying on the damp ground, his eyes lulled back. As soon as he heard her, they opened, but they never locked completely on hers. He stared above her, his focus shifting in and out. He was barely conscious. His face was contorted in pain and his breathing fast and laboured.

He looked like he was on the brink of death. She sword fell to her side and a different emotion passed through her. _She needed to save him._ It was the medic in her – she needed to help him. She needed to save him. Even though she didn't know him, she knew she had to try her best.

 _Even though she knew he probably would kill her if he had a chance, she had to save him._

Clarke dropped to her knees beside him, her pants instantly getting soaked from the damp dirt. _He was hurt._ Badly. She recognized him too, he was the male from District 12. She wondered what happened – how did he get injured so badly?

She didn't have time to think about it. He needed her help. He looked seconds away from death.

His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear any words. She tilted her head forward and she caught what he was saying. " _Help. Me_."

She pulled back, more determined than ever. She was going to help him.

She examined his body and felt her heart stop when he seen had been stabbed through the stomach and he was losing a lot of blood quickly. He slowly turned his eyes to her. They were foggy, but she could see fear in them.

 _She wasn't going to let him die alone._ She didn't know his name and she didn't know his story, but she would be dammed if she let anyone suffer. Nobody deserved to be here and nobody deserved to die alone.

"I'm Clarke," she said. "I'm here to help." She leaned over him and touched the side of his jacket. She jerked her hand back quickly and looked down at it. It was covered completely in blood.

She realized with a start that the front of her pants were soaked from the ground. She thought it was water, but she was wrong. _It was from his blood._ She felt like she was going to throw up.

She thought she had seen a lot of blood the day before between the bloodbath and Murphy, but she was completely unprepared for this. She could once again taste the blood on her tongue. She was so sick of that iron taste.

Pushing her discomfort out of the way, she reached forward and pulled back his jacket. It was completely soaked in blood, and so was the shirt underneath. It was so dark and damp that she couldn't see any of his injuries. At that point, she doubted that she would need to. She wasn't stupid; she knew he lost too much blood already.

Still, she lifted up the shirt to get a clear view of his injury underneath.

 _She almost got sick._

It looked like he was stabbed multiple times in the abdomen, leaving nothing except blood and tissue. She barely glanced at it, but she already knew.

 _She couldn't save him._

Even if she had her medical supplies, she wouldn't be able to stitch him up. He already lost too much blood, and he had almost nothing salvageable below his shirt.

 _He was going to die._

She put his shirt back down and looked to the sky. Oh, gods, this kid was going to die. Besides that, he was going to suffer. This death wasn't going to be a fast or a painless one. He would have to lay in a forest all alone, waiting for his life to slip away.

Her heart ached for him. She wished she knew his name.

Clarke nearly screamed when she felt his hand brushed hers. It was a feather light tap, just his fingertips brushing against her knuckles, but it was enough to startle her. She snapped her eyes back down to look at him. He was staring intently at her.

" _Kill me_." Her blood ran cold at his plea. He coughed out blood and she tried to hide her discomfort. "Kill me, _please_." He let out a deep moan and coughed again.

Her thoughts seemed to spiral. She swore that she was going to help people in these Games. She wanted to give life and help save people. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to kill. _All she wanted was to protect the people she cared about._ All she wanted was to leave her mark on these Games.

But he was dying. And he was suffering.

Was it helping him by killing him?

She pressed the back of her wrist tightly to her forehead in thought.

In a strange way, wasn't that mercy? He wouldn't have to suffer a long and painful death. While she wouldn't be saving his life, she would be saving him from that pain.

After a long moment of spiralling, she leaned forward, determination spreading through her.

 _This was the best way._

A smile was plastered on her face. She hoped she looked reassuring.

"I'm going to help you," she repeated, her voice stronger and more determined than she thought she could've managed. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the knife she had been carrying since the bloodbath. "It'll be okay," she promised him.

She inched forward, the knife positioned in her hands. Her mind was blurry; she could barely think about what she was doing. Her hand shook as she reached towards him. With one hand, she brushed his hair away from his face. She tried not to look at his face. This would be easier if she didn't think about what she was doing.

 _She didn't want to kill him_. She didn't want any blood on her hands. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to be in the Games. She didn't want to kill anyone.

But, seeing him, slowly dying, it broke her heart. He was begging for death – something to save him from his pain. That's what she wanted to do, wasn't it? She wanted to save people from pain?

She didn't want to debate it with herself anymore. She was going to lose her nerve.

Clarke reached forward and pressed the tip of the blade to his neck. He winced at the cool metal touching his skin. She could see his eyes fly open in a panic.

She didn't know where it came from, but she began humming softly, hoping to sooth him. It was a song that her mother used to sing to her when she was small.

Then, she pushed the blade in.

His body tensed up and his eyes flew open in shock. They landed on hers for one striking moment. She questioned her actions. _Was she doing the right thing?_ Or was this what the Capitol wanted? Was this what they wanted to see – the downfall of Clarke Griffin, the traitor?

His eyes couldn't leave hers. She could tell he was trying to talk, but she shook her head. She kept the smile on her face and she kept humming to him. She pulled the blade out and set it on the grass beside him.

"It's okay," she promised him. He nodded his head choppily, sending more blood into the grass blow them. She didn't know him, but she thought she understood his movements. He was thankful for what she did.

When his eyes fluttered closed and his head lulled to the side, she kept stroking his hair. As is face smoothed out, she kept humming softly. As his hands fell to his side and his body completely relaxed, she had to bite back a sob.

Then, the canon went off.

As soon as it did, Clarke pulled away from him, her mind completely blank. She wasn't too sure what to think. She looked down and see her hands covered in blood – _his blood_.

 _He was her first kill._

She stumbled away from him, her body feeling completely hallow. For what felt like the tenth time that day, it felt like she was watching herself from a distance.

Oh, gods, that was the first person she seen die. That was the first person she killed.

She could feel her face wet. With a start, she realized it was from tears. _She was crying._ Her hands came up to touch her cheeks, brushing the tears away. All that managed to do was smear blood across her face.

Clarke stumbled into the clearing, her mind spinning. She fell onto the ground beside the ledge and took in several shaking breaths, her eyes wide and locked on the pond.

 _She killed him._

 _She killed him._

 _He was dead._

 _She killed him._

Her mind couldn't pull away from him. She had just taken someone's life. She just watched as their life faded from the eyes, and their soul left their body. _He was dead and it was because of her._

"Clarke!" She didn't jump when Wells screamed out her name. She felt empty. "I heard a canon. _Oh, gods, I thought it was you_." She turned her head to the side as Wells dropped to the ground beside her. They locked eyes for a brief moment. She could see shock flash through them when he seen the blood on her cheek. " _Clarke_." He grasped onto her shoulders and quickly examined her body. He swore loudly. "You're covered in blood. What happened?" He pulled back a flap of her jacket, examining her torso for any cuts. She couldn't form the words she wanted to. _This isn't my blood. I killed a man. I killed a boy._ "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head numbly and she swallowed thickly. "Not mine." She locked eyes with him once again. Seeing the panic in them, she felt bad for making him worry. She forced the words through her lips. "It was the boy from District 12."

"Atom?" Lincoln stood behind Wells, his eyes frantic. He was already reaching for the sword on his hip. "He attacked you?" She shook her head again.

"I… I killed him." She locked eyes with Wells, her shock finally disappearing. All that was left behind was terror. She pushed her emotions away and focused on what Kane told her before entering the arena. _First, you survive._ This wasn't the time to mourn Atom. It was time to survive. "He was attacked by someone. He was too injured for me to save him. I… I killed him. I couldn't let him suffer."

"Where?" She pointed in the direction she came from and Lincoln was already moving in that direction. He disappeared into the bushes.

Clarke turned to Wells, who was still clutching her. She was grateful for him again – he was like her anchor.

Things began to click into place. The boy from District 12 – Atom – didn't get injured by himself. He was stabbed multiple times by someone – by another tribute. Someone else was close by. "We have to go. It's not safe here. If Atom was attacked, that person probably didn't go far."

Wells nodded his head. "You're right." Still, he didn't pull away from her. "You're okay?" She nodded. She _would_ be okay anyways. "Okay." He pulled away from Clarke and moved to the others. "Let's get water and get going."

All Clarke could think about was her first kill. She tried not to let it show how much if affected her – she knew sponsors would be watching for a reaction – but she couldn't help but feel distraught. _That was a human and she had killed him._ He was innocent.

 _They were all innocent._

After they collected their water and Clarke cleaned her hands, they kept moving. Monty suggested that they head for the hill that they seen a few miles away. The height would give them the advantage. They had to continue their walk towards the city and a little east to reach it, but he thought it was the best option.

That day, they drank more water than they had between all of them in the last two days. Clarke was relieved that they now had five full bottles of water. While that was not enough to last them too long, it would have to do for now.

After hours of walking, the group decided that it would be best to make camp somewhere. They found a cluster of large rocks with a small clearing in the centre. It provided protection and a nice area for a camp, so they decided to take it. It wasn't the best area and it wasn't as protected as the cabin from the night before, but Raven doubted something better would be coming.

Food was the next issue. They had two packs of crackers, one pack of dried meat and a bag of nuts; it wasn't enough to quench the hunger each of them had. Still, they divided up what they had. Just like Clarke thought the day earlier, food would be an issue they would solve tomorrow. What good would saving be if they weren't alive to eat it?

Clarke wasn't too sure if the day passed quickly because she was so focused on ignoring her emotions or if it was because she was so exhausted. It didn't really matter. To her, nightfall meant one more day of survival. Her allies were all still alive. Nobody was thirsty anymore. They were all still together.

 _Things would be fine._

Despite the rest of her life falling apart, things would be fine.

When the anthem started playing, she watched the sky intently. Immediately, the image of the girl from District 11 was shown in the sky. Part of her wanted to cry in relief again. If it went straight to District 11, that meant the Blakes were still alive.

 _Bellamy was still out there._

Her heart pulled when she seen Atom's face in the sky. _Her first kill._ She refused to stop and think too long about that fact. She didn't have time to mourn or think about her actions. She had to survive, and to do that, she needed a clear mind.

She couldn't stop and think about anything, really. _Atom. Her mom. Bellamy._ They were all distractions to her survival and to the survival of her group. No matter how much she wanted to stop and think about them, she couldn't.

She had to survive.

To her relief, only two faces appeared that night. She was thankful that neither of them were Bellamy's or Octavia's. She smiled to herself and pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders.

 _They were still alive._

She wondered where they were. Did they have issues finding water too, or did they collect enough during the bloodbath? Did they have enough food to eat, or were they having to use the skills she taught them to harvest? She wondered where they were and what they were thinking of.

She wondered what Bellamy was doing. Was he thinking of her just as much as she was thinking of him? Considering she couldn't get him off of her mind no matter how hard she tried, she doubted it.

Gods, all she wanted to do was think about him. _About the way he made her feel safe._ Even though they only knew each other for a few weeks, he made her feel safe. He made her feel like things were going to work out and things would be okay.

She wanted that now. More than ever before, she _needed_ that. Everything felt like it was falling apart – she needed someone to help make her feel like things would turn out okay.

She missed the way he managed to make her smile, even when she felt overwhelmed and terrified. She missed how she could open up to him without judgement. She missed how they would sit under the stars together and _talk._

She missed the way he caused butterflies to fill her stomach. She missed the way his laugh made her heart race. She missed the way his breath felt across her face.

She missed him.

She missed him, but she couldn't hide her smile. He made her happy during their brief moments before the arena and she hung onto that.

"You're happy." Wells plopped down beside her and pulled his jacket tight around his middle.

She turned to him and tried to hide her smile. She really shouldn't be smiling right now. They were in the arena. She had to look dedicated. She had to look serious.

"I'm not. Just thinking."

He snorted. "I know you, Clarke. I know when you're happy." He lifted his eyebrow. "It doesn't have to do with the fact that you didn't see the Blakes in the sky, does it?" She adverted her eyes. That _was one of the reason why she was smiling_. He sighed tiredly and she was instantly reminded of the stupid fued he had with Bellamy. "They're dangerous."

"I know," she said. She was too tired to argue. The smile fell off of her face. How many times did she have to have this conversation with him? "I know they're dangerous, but I'm here, and they aren't, right?" The words felt like acid on her tongue. She wished that wasn't true. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"I think it does," he insisted. "You really cared for them." He examined her face, but she held it emotionless. "You really cared about _him_." She turned her head, avoiding his gaze.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" For a minute, they were silent. The only sounds were Charlotte chatting to Monty happily.

She couldn't stop thinking of Bellamy. She knew why Wells was reluctant about him, but she didn't agree with his reasoning. He didn't know Bellamy like she knew him. He didn't ever give him a chance.

Finally, she turned back to Wells, feeling a spark of _something_ inside of her. He was right. _It did matter._ It mattered to her. She missed them. _She missed him._

"You're right. I care about them." He didn't look shocked by her words, so she kept talking. "They were kind to me and accepted me for who I was." She felt her body come alive, similar to how he made her feel so often. "He made me feel like I could be myself. He made me feel alive." She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, fighting off the chill of the night.

"Although, you wouldn't care about any of that." She knew she shouldn't have been rude to Wells, but she couldn't help it in that moment. She was just so _tired_ of always having to defend Bellamy when he did nothing wrong. "Everyone just assumes they're untrustworthy, just because they're from District 2."

"I don't trust them," Wells agreed. Clarke clenched her jaw tightly, stopping herself from biting a comment at him. "But _you_ care about them." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. That was a new tone. He usually didn't lack that much hostility in his voice when he talked about the Blakes. "You were happy when you hung out with them?"

She couldn't hide her smile. "I was. He's a good person. I trust him with my life. And he made me happy. He made me forget about everything. He made me feel normal – like we could just be normal."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He was silent for a long moment. Just when Clarke was sure he was going to drop the subject, he spoke. "I'm glad you were happy with them before we got sent to the arena. We all deserve a little happiness."

She leaned back against the rock and squeezed the hand draped over her shoulder. "Yeah. We do."

* * *

 **A huge thank you goes out to Hannah for her help with this chapter! Thank you so much for pre-reading a section of this chapter and for always giving me wonderful advice. You're a gem!**

 **As I stated last chapter, I will try to keep up with updating the list of tributes at the end of each chapter. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter. If they died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. And if you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**  
District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Male: Wells  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 8 Female: Charlotte  
District 9 Male: Illian  
District 10 Male: Dax  
 **District 11 F: Harper** **  
** **District 12 M: Atom**

 **I'm going to try my best to get back into a regular updating schedule within the next few weeks. I'll keep everyone posted on Twitter (Pawprinter1) and Tumblr (pawprinterfanfic).**

 **Once again, thank you so much for being so patient with this update! I managed to write a lot of fic during my break, including the final few chapters for "changing tides" (which is my Bellarke modern AU fic). That is now complete, which means I will have a lot more time to spend on this fic. Yay!**

 **I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for all of the reviews, favourites and follows. They're always so appreciated.**

 **Paw**


	23. Chapter 23: Happiness

**Sorry it took a while for this update! I planned to have it up a lot sooner, but I ended up getting sick (if you follow me on Twitter or Tumblr, I'm sure you've seen me whining about it haha). I'm better now, and I'm so happy to be back to this fic.**

 **I currently have this as my only WIP, so that means the updates for this fic should be more regular again. I want to get back to the schedule I had at the start of this fic – to update every Tuesday. I'll let everyone know if I can't keep this schedule on my social media (Twitter is Pawprinter1, Tumblr is pawprinterfanfic). Thank you all for being so patient as I worked through other fics!**

 **Warnings: this chapter has mentions of blood and injuries in it – more so than usual. If you aren't comfortable with this or if you're worried about it, feel free to reach out to me (through comments, or you can contact me through social media). I also will put a chapter summary in the bottom notes.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's one many people have been asking about!**

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 **Chapter 23: Happiness**

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 _Day 3 in the arena_

* * *

The next morning, they decided to keep heading towards the hill Monty spotted the day earlier. The higher they were, the more likely they would see an attack coming. _That_ was an advantage they needed. And at the very least, they would be able to see for miles in either direction and make a better plan.

Clarke lead the group with Wells at her side. She couldn't help but feel like this was always have it was supposed to be. They had always been partners and best friends for longer than she could remember. Back home, before all of this, he was always by her side, even when things got dark.

Now, he was by her side again. _Finally._

It wasn't for his lack of trying – she knew it fell on her that it took this long to get back to this place with Wells. No matter how many times he reminded her that he made decisions that lead to her reactions and no matter how many times Wells told her not to blame herself – she did. It was easy to.

She tried not to think about it. She tried not to think about anything, really. It was easier said than done. She couldn't let her mind wonder as they hiked through the forest; she had to stay alert for other tributes. She couldn't just _walk_ – she always had to be on-guard and ready for anything.

Plus, her mind was a mess. _Nothing_ made sense anymore. What _did_ she have to believe? Her mother killed her dad. She was wrong about Wells. She couldn't stop thinking about a certain tribute _that she most definitely did not want to be thinking about._ She couldn't let herself think about any of those things – she couldn't risk the distraction.

Still, being beside Wells was good. It felt good to have something familiar and safe beside her in the arena – in her life. Everything else she had known had been taken from her. Her father, her mother, Bellamy. _Nothing was what it was supposed to be._ She had her life completely flipped upside down in the last few days. Having Wells was familiar.

Behind her was Charlotte and Monty. The two of them had grown closer over the last few days. Clarke felt like Charlotte was opening up to the rest of the alliance, and that made her beyond happy. At the start of the week, she only trusted Clarke and Lincoln. Now, she was trusting all of them.

 _All of them except Wells and Murphy._

Clarke thought this was to be expected. Murphy only joined the alliance hours before they entered the arena, and Wells joined during the bloodbath. None of them had the time to get to know the two newest members, other than the time they spent with them in the arena.

For her, it was easy to trust Wells again. While the rest of her alliance was apprehensive about him at first, it seemed like they were warming up to him. It was happening slowly, but it was happening.

Murphy on the other hand – Clarke wasn't too sure what everyone thought about him. They trusted him enough to stay on watch during the night, but she could still see Lincoln giving him leery glances every few hours. For what it was worth, he hadn't done anything to make people _not_ trust him.

And she trusted him with her life. That wasn't empty words either – he _did_ save her life already, and she trusted him to do it again. She would do the same for him, if it came down to it. While she didn't know him as well as the others, she didn't doubt for a second that he was one of her people now.

Behind Charlotte and Monty was Murphy, Raven and Lincoln. Raven had her arm thrown over his shoulders and a grimace on her face. Clarke felt terrible that she had to push herself this hard and experience this much pain while in the arena. She hadn't met anyone with as much strength and determination as Raven though. She ran, despite suspecting doing so would hurt. Now, she had been walking for miles, her jaw locked and eyes burning.

Beside her, Murphy clutched his bicep with a scowl on his face. While they were an unlikely duo, they seemed to have grown close. It was ironic; Monty and Raven despised Murphy at the parade of tributes – an event only a week ago. Murphy hated them right back. Now, to see them chatting as they closed off their pack was almost surreal.

While Clarke _wanted_ to be surprised, she wasn't really. Comparing how far they had come since the start made the shift in their friendship clear, but she had watched them slowly evolve over the last few days. She was the reason he stayed as quiet as he did while Clarke stitched him up. They formed a connection between the pain, so it only made sense they were stuck to each other now.

The last two days, they'd been beside each other. Monty or Lincoln usually helped support some of Raven's weight to hopefully reduce the strain she was in, but Murphy stuck by her too. Clarke wasn't too sure why he did, but it was nice to see them actually getting along now.

Most of the group was already covered in blood. Murphy was covered in his own blood from their impromptu operation in the cabin, and so was Raven. Monty must've got his share from the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Wells' jacket was caked in the crimson substance from when he used it to wipe his and Clarke's hands. The only ones _not_ covered in blood was Charlotte and Lincoln, surprisingly.

Clarke seemed to be the bloodiest of them all. Not only was she covered in Murphy's blood, but she was also covered in Atom's blood. Her arms were still splattered with it and her pants were stained. All she really wanted to do was wash off, but they couldn't waste the water.

She felt stupid for not jumping in the pond when she had the chance, but it never even came to mind when she was there. All she thought was drinking and surviving. Being clean was a luxury.

The arena was large and confusing. Clarke was usually good with directions, but it was easy to get lost in the forest. At the centre of the arena sat the ruined city where the Cornucopia was. She assumed that all of the way around was surrounded completely by forests that contained cabins – at least it was to the south of the city.

They had walked for hours to find the pond, and they were hours away from it again. She hoped that wasn't the only water source in the arena. Other than that, they had seen valleys and hills. They'd slept between rocks and inside a cabin.

Clarke was impressed by the arena. It was absolutely terrible. She didn't know where she was or what was in it. A city, cabins, forests, rocks, ponds, hills – it had everything.

As if the Gamemakers could read her mind, she noticed _another_ thing to add to the list of stuff in the arena. The ground bubbled up in one place and was clear of all trees, allowing for a rock formation to rest.

Clarke squinted against the sun. It was a cave. Maybe that would be a good place to stop for the day? She knew they all needed rest and walking around wasn't really doing anything. In fact, walking through the arena was only calling attention to themselves. What they really needed was a good shelter they could stay in until necessary.

She looked away from the cave, deciding it was going to be small for the size of their group. They would all barely fit inside.

She wished that she had a map to go by. With just wondering aimlessly, it felt like they were getting nowhere. She didn't know what was coming still. Would there be better shelter? Would this be the only chance they had at something comfortable? Would they ever find more water?

She didn't know. Nobody knew. It was all just a game of luck and chance.

She was never lucky. _She didn't like this game_.

Raven snickered over something Murphy said. Charlotte asked Lincoln what they were laughing about, but he never got the chance to answer.

A rock came flying out of the cave they were passing by, hitting Murphy in the arm. He swore loudly, but Raven clamped her hand over his mouth, her eyes wide.

Clarke's blood ran cold. For a brief moment, she froze completely, letting the fear paralyse her.

 _Then she was moving._ She drew her sword from the holster on her waist and crouched low, positing her body just as she was taught. She glanced around her alliance to make sure everyone was okay. Charlotte was already pushed behind Lincoln and everyone had their weapons drawn.

Good. They were ready. _Ready enough, anyways._

Clarke's eyes flicked back to the cave, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel her wrists tingling from the adrenaline flooding her system. Her breathing was rapid and her ears were ringing.

 _Someone was there._ Another tribute was just beyond the mouth of the cave and _whoever they were_ seen them. There was no mistaking that – they _threw a_ _rock at them._

Clarke was terrified. She didn't want to see anyone she cared about get hurt.

She glanced over to Lincoln, begging him to guide her. He was the strategic one – he knew what to do in these situations. All she knew was to swing her sword and not let anyone get hurt.

When they locked eyes, he flicked his gaze to Charlotte, his eyebrows raised. She nodded, understanding what he was asking. _Get her to safety_.

Clarke moved as silently as she could, pulling Charlotte behind her body. Wells followed her too, blocking Charlotte from the danger completely.

Another rock came flying out, this time landing at Clarke's feet. She stared at it dumbfounded. _What was the point?_ Why hadn't they attacked yet? They were throwing rocks at them, so they were obviously aware that they were walking passed. Why hadn't they come out to attack them? The rocks weren't hurting them – they weren't even with enough force to inflict harm. The only thing the rocks were accomplishing was making her and her alliance aware someone was there.

She was missing something. This was too simple. Something was wrong.

There was rustling from inside the cave, making Clarke's heart jump to her throat. As soon as the light caught the edge of the sword from just beyond the mouth of the cave, Lincoln charged. Without glancing away, Clarke pushed Charlotte behind the nearest tree, putting her out of the way of harm. Lincoln was approaching the cave, his sword held high and a snarl coming from his mouth.

 _Then_ _she seen him._

Her heart completely stopped and she felt her legs turn to complete jelly. Her sword fell from her numb hand, landing in the debris of the forest floor. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She couldn't move.

 _Bellamy._

He was here.

 _He was alive._

He was standing in the mouth of the cave, his sword already falling to the ground. He was soaked in blood from head to toe. His hair was plastered to his face; she couldn't tell if it was due to sweat or blood. His eyes looked hallow and his lips were cracked.

He looked defeated. Broken. In agony.

 _Then it hit her_. Lincoln was charging at him, his sword poised to kill. Bellamy had dropped his sword in surrender, his eyes turned to the sky.

 _Lincoln was going to kill him._

She was moving before the realized what was happening. "Stop!" Her voice sounded animalistic, even to her. "Wait!" She didn't think she had run so fast in her life. Lincoln didn't listen to her pleas; he was still moving towards Bellamy. Her heart was racing. "Stop! _Stop_!"

She threw herself in front of Lincoln, making him collide into her. She pushed her body against his, finally getting him to turn his gaze towards her. She met his eyes with desperation and her chin high. She could barely feel her body, she was full of so much adrenaline. She held her arms wide, preventing him from moving around her.

"Stop," she repeated, her voice cracking. His eyes flicked back to looking at Bellamy, who was only a few feet behind her. His jaw was locked and eyes narrowed. Her heart was aching. _He wasn't going to listen to her._

"Move, Clarke," he said lowly, his voice demanding. She took a step closer to him, her confidence unwavering. _He wasn't getting around her._ He wasn't going to kill Bellamy. His eyes snapped to her, flashing. " _I said move."_

"And I said no!" Her voice shook as much as her hands did.

She knew she should've been arguing more – she should've been talking or _something._ She couldn't though. Her mouth refused to work in that moment. Her thoughts were mushed together, making it impossible to speak.

She didn't risk looking back at Bellamy. She knew she would fall apart if she seen him. _Her heart yearned to be with him._ To hold him, to cry with him, to kiss him. She wanted to hold him and never let go – not again.

She also knew that if she looked away from Lincoln, he would use that to his advantage. To him, Bellamy was a threat he had to take care of. She couldn't let him around her. At least with her between the two of them, Bellamy was safe.

She shoved his arm holding the sword down, feeling more desperate. "He's not dangerous."

"He's a Career," Murphy snapped. He pushed his way forward, coming to stand beside Lincoln. Clarke stumbled a few steps back, blocking him from walking any further. Murphy waved a knife around dangerously and took a single step forward. "We have to kill him."

"Put that down," Clarke hissed, swatting his knife away. He scowled at her and took another step forward. She backed up a few steps, keeping her body in a position that she could block both Lincoln and Murphy. "It's Bellamy. He's not going to hurt us."

"He freaking hit me with a rock!" Murphy snapped. His knife was up again, the blade pointing in his direction to emphasize his point. Clarke flinched away, the point coming up past her shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Wells sprung into action, pushing his way forward. He placed his hand on Lincoln's shoulder, pulling him off balance. "Back off."

Murphy spun to face Wells, his eyes growing darker. "Screw you, Jaha," he snapped. He glanced at Clarke again. Her mind was reeling. She wouldn't fight them, but she couldn't let Bellamy be murdered either. _She didn't know what to do._ "I don't care how friendly you two were before the Games. If you don't move, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Wells snapped. He stepped in front of Murphy, standing shoulder to shoulder with Clarke. "Kill her? Kill me?"

Murphy's lips curled back. "What, you don't think I would do it?" Murphy stepped closer, bumping his chest into Wells. Wells' hand curled into a fist by his side.

Clarke stared at Lincoln directly in the eyes. She hoped he could see how scared and desperate she was. She hoped that he seen her plea to talk about this before he acted more. She didn't think she would ever see Bellamy again, and there he was – right in front of her. She hoped he understood. She hoped he didn't keep fighting to kill him.

The tension was mounting with Wells and Murphy. Neither of the boys had said anything, but Murphy kept pressing forward, making Wells stumble back a few steps. Wells looked like he was seconds away from cracking and lunging at him.

 _Please don't turn into a fight._

Her heart was racing. Her thoughts were spiralling. She was at a loss of what to do.

Before she had to figure it out, Monty stepped forward. "Guys, she said he's fine." He walked up and locked his fingers around Murphy's wrist, forcing him to lower his knife.

Clarke still hadn't broken eye contact with Lincoln. _Please don't kill him. Please understand._ Finally, he let out a sigh and lowered his sword. "Fine." His voice was harsher than she'd ever hear before. He took a few steps back, shaking his head. "I don't agree with you and I don't trust him, but I'm not going to hurt you."

Clarke's mouth ran dry. She needed to make him understand. _Please understand._ "Do you trust me?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Lincoln jutted his chin out. "Without question."

She squared her shoulders. "Well, I trust Bellamy. _I_ say he's fine. You don't have to trust him. You don't have to like him. _But don't kill him. Please. Don't kill him_." Her voice cracked. She would've been shocked by how emotional her voice was if she wasn't so terrified.

Lincoln was silent for a few seconds before he nodded. He placed his sword back into his belt and took a few steps backwards. His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed as he stared just past Clarke's shoulder.

Clarke turned her gaze to Murphy. He was glaring intently at Wells. "Murphy."

"Screw off, Clarke," he snapped. He waved his hand wildly and she was glad Monty had a hold on his wrist with the knife. "He's not apart of the alliance. _That means he's a threat_. He can't be trusted." He locked eyes with her. She seen hatred and distrust in them. "He's a Career," he spat.

"I said back down," Clarke pleaded. They stared intently at each other. She knew he wasn't going to back down. He was too angry and determined. Raven walked up and griped his shoulder. He glanced away from Clarke, turning his glare to the ground.

"Give it up," she said. She glanced back at Bellamy, her lips turning into a frown. "We don't have to kill him yet."

Those words made Clarke's heart race with hope that this was actually going to work, and also turned her stomach to stone at the same time.

With Raven's encouragement, Murphy lowered his hand holding his knife. He held his hands up in mock surrender and took a few steps back.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, he turned and stalked away, leaving Monty and Raven alone. The two District 3 tributes stared at Bellamy for a long moment. Clarke stood with her back towards him still, refusing to take her eyes off her alliance until she knew things were settled. Raven's eyes flicked to Clarke's and she sent her a judging look. Clarke arched her eyebrows.

"I didn't say anything," Raven insisted after a moment. She took a few steps backwards, her jaw still set. "If he makes any wrong moves, he's dead. _That's a promise_." With those departing words, she turned and joined Charlotte.

Clarke knew she should've been terrified with her words, but she wasn't. All she could think about was the fact Bellamy was behind her. All she could think about was running to him and being in his arms again.

Monty took a few steps backwards, his shoulders relaxed. She smiled thinly at him. "Thanks."

He grimaced. "No problem. Be careful." He turned and joined the group, which left Clarke and Wells.

Clarke felt like she was dying from anticipation, but she couldn't let her guard down. Her eyes swept over her alliance once more, making sure they weren't going to kill Bellamy with her back turned. She trusted them – she did – but she also knew that they would do anything to make sure they stayed safe.

When she was satisfied, she clenched her fists and sucked in a breath from between her teeth. Despite the threat being over, her heart was still racing. Now, it was for a completely different reason.

She was sure they were going to die before they met again. She was sure the last time she seen him was going to be when they were on the roof the night before the arena.

 _She was wrong._ He was behind her. _He was alive._

Without saying anything to Wells, she turned around and locked eyes with Bellamy. Her heart was racing as she did and she felt all the air get pushed out of her lungs.

 _He was alive._ Emotions flooded her faster than she could process them.

 _Relief. Joy. Worry. Love._ She was so happy to see him that she could've cried. She thought she lost him when they said goodbye. She thought their paths were never meant to cross – that their time together had been a happy mistake.

But seeing him again washed those thoughts away. Maybe they were _meant_ to have met in the Capitol. Maybe their paths were meant to collide; it sure as hell seemed like it.

Her happiness was crushed when reality hit her. He was soaked in blood, some of it fresh. His face looked devoid of life, like his soul had been sucked from his body. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in days.

 _Those eyes._

A wave of affection went through her. She loved his eyes. They made her feel like home.

Clarke rushed forward. She couldn't feel her legs moving, but before her mind could catch up to everything, she was in front of him and she was lunging at him. Clarke threw her arms around his neck, jumping at him with so much excitement that her momentum sent him stumbling back a few steps.

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly to him. She let out a breath that was mixed with a sob, her emotions breaking her. Her nose was pressed into his neck as tears burned her eyes. He buried his face in her hair and clutched the back of her jacket.

She felt like she was going to break if she didn't hold him with every ounce of her strength. Her heart was aching from being in his arms again, almost like it was reminding her of the time they spent apart and all the agony she tried to ignore.

For the first time since being in the arena, she felt safe. She felt like _things would be okay._ She thought that things would work out – as long as they were together, they would be okay.

 _For a brief moment, anyways._

She wasn't too sure how long she stood in his arms. She didn't care. She didn't care about her allies watching them. She didn't care about the judgements they were making. She didn't care that dozens of cameras must've been pointed at them. She didn't care they were being broadcast across Panem for all to see.

 _She didn't care._

In that moment, all she cared about was the fact Bellamy was alive. She cared about his heart beating against her body. She cared about the blood rushing through his veins and the steady rhythm of his heart in his chest. She cared about his breath against her neck. She cared about his body against hers; his touches making flames dance across her skin.

She cared about him being alive and there. She wanted to sob into him and tell him how scared she was that she would never see him again. She wanted to press her lips against his and whisper that she regretted not doing that earlier. She wanted to tell him the truth – to tell him that he held her heart and her soul and everything else.

 _But she didn't._

She couldn't. She couldn't pretend any longer. They weren't safe. They were both soaked in blood and fighting for their lives. At any moment, they could die. _Things weren't going to be okay,_ no matter what it felt like in that moment.

"I missed you," she admitted. Those were the first words to come to mind and she couldn't stop them from falling from her lips. "Are you okay?" She pulled back, her eyes scanning his body for an injury. Her hands shook as she pulled away, letting them run down the sides of his arms. He was shaking. "The blood…"

"Not mine." His voice was hoarse and raspy. He looked down at his body, completely devoid of emotions. "It's Octavia's." Clarke's heart jumped to her throat and she felt herself go numb. Things started to click into place; why Bellamy was covered in blood, why Octavia wasn't standing beside him, why he looked so haunted, and why he was so willing to give up.

The worst thought came to mind. She felt cold hands grip her stomach. It felt like she was going to get sick.

She tried to push thoughts of death out of her mind. The youngest Blake wasn't dead – it wasn't possible. She hadn't heard a canon for the day yet; nobody had died so far. Since she hadn't seen her picture in the sky in the previous nights, that meant she had to be alive.

Which meant she was injured. _Badly._

"Where is she?" Clarke had pulled completely away from his arms, already slipping into a different mode. If she had lost that much blood, she must've been really injured. If Octavia had any chance, she would need to see her and get to work. When Bellamy didn't move, still too stunned, she grasped his forearm and squeezed gently. "Where is she?"

With her prompting, Bellamy seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in. He nodded his head numbly and rushed back into the cave, Clarke hot on his heels.

The cave was warm, damp, dark, and smelt like blood. Clarke doubted she would ever get used to this scent, no matter how many times she had smelt it over the last few days. The metallic tang made her stomach churn and made the water she drank earlier rise in her throat.

She could barely see the outline of a girl laying flat on the ground. The only light source in the tiny cave was the mouth they just climbed through, which didn't provide much. What Clarke _did_ see wasn't good. She felt her heart stop.

If she didn't know any better, Clarke would've assumed she was dead. She couldn't see her chest rising and falling. All she could see was the shell of the girl Octavia was only a few days ago.

Clarke dropped to her knees beside her. She faintly acknowledged that she could feel blood seeping into her pants from the ground – just like what happened with Atom. Somehow, comparing Octavia to Atom in that moment made her feel worse. _What if she couldn't save Octavia, just like she couldn't save Atom? What if she let her die, like she did with him?_

Bellamy picked up a flashlight that sat beside his sister and turned it on.

 _The light made it worse._

Octavia was pale, making the dark red blood splattered across her skin that much more striking. Her hair was matted with leaves and mud, and was plastered against the sides of her head from blood. Her lips were pale and cracked in several places. Her breathing was laboured; she sounded almost raspy, like every breath was a struggle.

Worst of all was her injury. Her stomach was slashed open, similarly to how Atom was. While it wasn't bleeding anymore, what _was_ surrounding it was a mix of dark red and light. It was still an open wound, even if Bellamy managed to stop the bleeding for now.

Clarke didn't say anything as she took in Octavia. She just stared blankly at her, a fog settling over her mind.

 _Octavia was going to die._

Fear rose in her. She wasn't going to be able to save her. She was going to have to kill another tribute. She was going fail someone – again.

Her heart was heavy. This wasn't just a face she recognized. This girl – Octavia – was someone she talked to. She was someone she cared about. That made things a million times worse.

Clarke's eyes snapped over to Bellamy's. They were locked completely on his sister's body and filled with unshed tears. He looked like a broken man. _She understood_. His sister was his world. The only reason why he volunteered for the Games was to protect her. If she died, his life would be meaningless, or so he thought. If she died, he came to the Games for nothing.

A surge of energy went through her. She clung to a tiny piece of hope. _She couldn't let her die._ She had to try and save her. With whatever means they had, she had to try. She didn't get to try with Atom. _She sure as hell wasn't going to give up on Octavia._ She knew the girl. She was strong. She was a fighter. And Clarke cared about her.

"Wells, I'll need your help!" Clarke called.

She ripped open the backpack she was carrying, her mind already racing. She dumped the contents out and the sterilizer, the sewing kit, gauze, several large bandages, and the dental floss fell to the ground.

Wells entered the cave and caught sight of Octavia. His lips pressed together tightly, like he was about to get sick. "We're operating again?" he asked after he swallowed thickly.

"Yes." Wells was already moving, slipping off his jacket.

Bellamy lurched forward, his eyes wide and panicked. "Operating?" He turned to Clarke. Her heart broke for him. "You're going to…"

She couldn't say what she was about to do or the fears she had. Instead, she gave him empty words. "I'll do what I can to save her," she promised him. _That was all she could promise._ They locked eyes. She tried "I know how much she means to you, Bell. I'll try my best."

It felt like a lifetime passed as she stared into his eyes. She was desperate to reassure him, but she didn't want to give him false hope. She couldn't promise anything other than that she would try her best. She wanted to, though. She wanted to wash his fears away and sooth his aching soul.

 _But she couldn't._

He nodded his head numbly, his eyes growing distant. She knew this was the only assurance she would be getting from him, so she tried to refocus herself. She needed to be sharp if she was going to save her. "I need any medical supplies you have. Anything." He nodded his head numbly again and began digging in his backpack by his feet. He pulled out more sterilizer, a package of wipes, and a surgical kit.

"Here."

He handed the items to Clarke and returned to his position, holding the flashlight above their heads. Clarke ripped open the medical kit and rifled through the supplies. A scalpel, a pair of surgical scissors, and a pair of tweezers. _Good_. She'll be needing that.

"We'll definitely need water for this one," she mumbled. Before anyone could say anything, she turned to the mouth of the cave. "Raven! We need water, please."

After only a minute, the mechanic entered the cave and scrunched up her nose. "We're already short." She looked at the girl on the ground. Her face twisted uncomfortably and she looked away. She looked like she was going to get sick. "We don't have any to give."

"Please, Raven." Clarke's voice was shaking. "We can always go find more. Octavia needs some if she's going to survive. We can't do this with sterilizer." Raven stared at Clarke for a long moment before sighing. She slipped off her backpack and pulled out a canteen of water. She passed it to Clarke.

"Use sparingly," she reminded. She scrunched up her nose again, most likely from the smell, and exited the cave.

Wells already dug out the blanket for Octavia to bite down on and sterilized his hands. As Clarke sterilized hers, as well as the surgical equipment, she looked at Bellamy.

"This is going to be bad," she warned him. She didn't know if she wanted him to see what was going to happen. Putting Octavia through pain was bad enough. She didn't know if she could handle putting Bellamy through pain too. "If you can't be here, then you can go. I just need-"

"I'm staying," his voice was determined. There wasn't any question in it. He dropped to his knees on the opposite side of Octavia, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "She's my sister."

"Okay." Clarke passed him the sterilizer. "Wash up. We'll need you." As Bellamy took the sterilizer from her, Clarke turned back to Octavia. "She's in rough shape. I'm not sure what I can do." Clarke pulled up Octavia's shirt, revealing the wound underneath. It was jagged and gaping. Clarke grit her teeth and swore. _It was worse than she thought_. "Shit."

She wasn't sure where to start. If she was back home and in ideal conditions, she would recommend Octavia get a few units of blood to replenish what she lost. She would be under general anesthetic, so she wouldn't feel the pain. Clarke would have clean equipment and bright lights. She would have more than fucking dental floss to stitch her back up.

"We'll need to cauterize it," Wells said, speaking for the first time since he arrived in the cave. While Wells was never training to become a medic like she was, he had spent enough time with Abby and her at the hospital and the clinic to have a fairly good idea of what to do. "I've seen your mom do it before. It stops the bleeding."

Good. That was a good idea. She wouldn't have to use the dental floss then, which was good. She didn't really know if it would hold on _any_ wound, never mind one the size of Octavia's. This way would be hard for Octavia, but it was her best chance at survival.

Clarke nodded her head in agreement, finally deciding on the course of action. "Get the shrapnel out, if there is any. Clean it. Cauterize it." Wells mumbled something in agreement. "Bellamy, how did she get like this?"

"Sword."

"Alight. Shouldn't be any shrapnel." She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. Her mind was racing as she tried to think of the best course of action. "Monty, can you please get a fire going!?" She heard him mumble something in agreement. Clarke chewed on her lips.

This was going to be bad. Clarke watched patients have wounds cauterized before, and it was terrible. Octavia was still awake and she would feel every movement. Considering Murphy nearly passed out from what might be considered a minor operation when compared to the one she was about to do on Octavia, she was sure this was going to be worse.

"Bellamy, she's going to be in a lot of pain." He nodded slowly, his face twisting. Clarke tried not to look at him. She couldn't get distracted. "You can't let her scream, and she'll want to."

"Get her to bite this," Wells said, handing him the thermal blanket. Bellamy took it with a shaking hand.

Breaking her own rule, she glanced at him. They locked eyes. "Don't let her scream," Clarke told him again. "It's going to be bad. She's going to be in a lot of pain. There will be lots of blood. Are you sure you're okay with this?" He nodded, his expression turning into a mask. She recognized it from all the time they spent together. He was terrified and this was the only way he knew how to hide. "Okay. Wells, we'll need a knife headed in the fire. When I'm ready, we'll cauterize it." He climbed back out of the cave, leaving the Blakes and Clarke.

Clarke didn't have time to think or feel. She didn't have time to analyze her emotions or the situation. She was completely focused on saving Octavia.

The truth was, she didn't think she would ever see Bellamy and Octavia again. When she said goodbye to Bellamy on the roof, she thought that was it. Their moments in paradise were over. They had to stop pretending that they could be anything more than sacrifices to tame the Capitol's wrath.

It had been two days since she seen him, but it felt like years. They both had changed so much since the last time they were together.

He looked lost and broken. She could only guess what he went through, but she knew it couldn't have been good. Octavia was laying on the ground, moments away from death – Clarke wasn't sure if she could save her. She didn't get that way by accident. Someone must've attacked them.

She felt like a different person too. She had helped kill the girl from District 9 in the bloodbath. She had the warm blood of the boy from District 12 run down her hands. She wasn't the same girl that he knew. She felt something shifting inside her. She wasn't who she wanted to be. She was surviving.

 _Barely._

Wells climbed back into the cave and nodded to Clarke, signalling that he was ready. _They could start._ Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She tried to ignore the way panic seized her heart. She picked up the tweezers from the surgical kit and leaned over Octavia.

"I'm starting."

The procedure was long. As soon as Clarke started, Octavia began stirring. She had been knocked out from the blood loss, but the extreme pain brought her back. _Clarke hated it_. She hated working without local freezing or general anesthetic. She hated putting someone through so much pain.

Her eyes flew open and she let out a piercing scream as soon as Clarke began working. Clarke cringed away. She felt her teeth groan from the amount of force she was biting down with, trying to keep her own groans away. She had to stay strong and determined. No matter how much it hurt her, she had to keep going. She had to keep going or she would die.

"O." Bellamy was at her as soon as she let out the first scream. "Shhhhh. I'm here." He leaned over her. Her eyes focused on his and she gasped for breath. Clarke wanted to cry at how scared she looked. She had never seen someone so unbreakable break. "Squeeze my hand." He held his hand out for her to hold. Without hesitation, she latched onto in and gripped it tightly. "Good. _No screaming_. It'll be okay." She gritted her teeth and let out laboured breathed. She nodded her head and let a few tears fall.

Clarke tried to work fast. She knew how much pain Octavia would be in, and she hated seeing her like that. She hated seeing _anyone_ like that.

She worked as much as she could. She cleaned the cut with sterilizer, which sent Octavia screaming again. She was not nearly as loud or as much of a screamer as Murphy was. She let out the initial scream before clamping her mouth shut. Tears were rolling out the sides of her eyes and her face was contorted in pain. Clarke could feel that her body was tense from holding in her screams. Her hand gripped Bellamy's so tight that Clarke was surprised it didn't break.

"Wells. The knife." He got up from the ground and ran out of the cave. Clarke glanced at Octavia. She couldn't focus on the pang of hurt in her chest. She couldn't allow herself to comprehend what was going on. If she did, she was scared she would stop. "I'm sorry. It's about to get a lot worse." Octavia's eyes were going in and out of focus, but she never looked away from Bellamy. She looked like she was seconds away from passing out; like she was fighting to stay awake.

When Octavia didn't respond, Bellamy turned and locked eyes with Clarke. "Do it."

He looked like he was in pain too. His face was twisted and his eyes were empty. The muscles in his jaw kept twitching. She reached across Octavia and placed a light hand on his forearm. She wanted to comfort him – to tell him things would be okay. She wanted to lie to him. She wanted to promise him that Octavia would be fine and all this pain would be worth it.

 _She didn't._

She hoped that her touch could bring him some comfort – any comfort. She couldn't speak in that moment, her throat feeling too tight for words. She knew how much his light touches meant to her while they were in the Capitol. Maybe this would help him as much as it helped her.

Wells climbed back into the cave, a glowing knife and a bottle of water in his hands. She pulled away from Bellamy, settling back on the steel in her heart. She took the materials from him and leaned over Octavia again.

She screamed louder than she ever heard someone before. Clarke winced and kept muttering apologies under her breath. She tried to keep the pain down, but there wasn't much she could do. _They needed to stop the bleeding_.

Then, Octavia fell quiet. Her body went limp as she passed out. Clarke was thankful for that. At least she wasn't going to be in as much pain. Or, that's what Clarke told herself, anyways.

Bellamy looked at Clarke panicked. "Something's wrong. She's-"

"From the pain," Clarke said, her jaw locked. Bellamy's shoulders relaxed the slightest bit as he leaned backwards. Clarke tried to ignore the tears along his cheeks. _She needed to focus._

She pulled the knife away from her wound and examined it. It was closed and the bleeding was stopped. She wasn't too sure if it would hold, but it was the best she could do. She leaned back completely and handed the medical equipment over to Wells. He took it from her and began to sterilize it.

"There. I'm done."

Bellamy let out a breath of air and leaned backwards, pulling away from his sister. He pressed the palms of his hands to his head and closed his eyes tightly. She could see his hands shaking and his shoulders tensed.

"I'll just bandage it."

She took one large bandage from her bag and the package of gauze and wrapped her wound. She hoped that it would stay clean and dry, but she really worried she would get an infection. Before she started operating, it didn't look too healthy. She knew that if she did have an infection and didn't get it treated, she wouldn't last very long. The infection would move into her blood, and there wouldn't be anything she could do for her then.

She tried not to think about it. That would be a problem for another day.

Clarke took Wells' offered jacket and wiped the blood from her hands. She felt bad that his jacket was the one designated for washing hands and wiping up blood, but he didn't seem to mind. He was always warm – had been since they were kids – so he wasn't bothered.

She bent over to examine the bandages one more time. She was satisfied with how they were positioned, so she turned to Octavia. She was still knocked out. She placed the back of her hand on her forehead and reached to her neck to feel for a pulse.

She was warm and her heart rate was elevated, but that was to be expected from the pain. She pulled back from her and turned to Bellamy. She was shocked that he was looking at her, his eyes burning with intensity. He was begging with his eyes.

She wanted to tell him that everything would be okay. She wanted to tell him that his sister was going to live. But, _she didn't know._ She did everything she could, but it might not have been enough.

It was a terrible feeling, not knowing if what she did was good enough.

"She's stable," Clarke said, her voice uneven. Bellamy's shoulders relaxed. "Her vitals are fine from what I can tell. I've closed to wound and stopped the bleeding." Bellamy looked like he was seconds away from breaking down again. This time, she could see hope in his eyes. "The only thing I'm worried about is infection, so we need to keep her clean and dry. Sterilize hands before touching the wound. Change the bandages regularly. That sort of thing."

She took the sterilizer Wells handed her. "We'll have to watch her closely – for any temperature jumps or pulse spikes. Either of those things could mean there's an infection. And I don't… I don't have the equipment to treat that."

The hope disappeared from his eyes. He looked shattered as he threaded his hands through his hair and tugged lightly. Her heart hurt watching him fall apart. There was nothing she could do to make it better, and that hurt even worse.

"Shit."

She knew how much he cared for Octavia; he had practically raised her. The whole reason he volunteered for the Games was so he could protect her. Now, she was on the brink of death. She remembered what he told her on the roof – if she died, he would feel like he failed her. He wouldn't have anything left to fight for.

Clarke peeled her eyes away from Bellamy, suddenly feeling a strange emotion in her chest. As the adrenaline was leaving her system, the reality of the situation was starting to sink in.

"We've done all we could." She pulled the thermal blanket over Octavia. She had lost a lot of blood, so she was sure she would be cold. "We can't do anything except wait." Bellamy nodded tiredly.

She glanced at him again, feeling her heart racing in her chest. He glanced up at her and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, they locked eyes.

She could see the pain and the hurt behind them, similar to the hurt she carried inside of herself.

Despite everything, relief washed over her. Bellamy was here. He was alive. He wasn't injured and he wasn't struggling to survive. _He was okay._ All of her worst fears faded to nothing in that moment.

In that moment, it was just them. _And she was happy._

* * *

 **FREAKING FINALLY! Bellamy and Clarke are back together. This only took 300 years. I'm so happy they're reunited because my favourite chapters are the ones where they're together.**

 **Chapter summary: While walking through the arena, Clarke and her alliance come into contact with another tribute, who is hidden in a cave. As Lincoln is about to attack, Clarke realizes it is Bellamy. She manages to save Bellamy from her allies and has to face toe-to-toe with Lincoln and Murphy to convince them to not hurt him. She reunites with Bellamy, but the moment is ruined by the fact Octavia is hurt and needs medical treatment. Clarke closes the wound, but she has been so injured she is unsure if she will survive.**

 **There have been no deaths this chapter. If you are curious about the latest tribute list, please see the list at the end of chapter 22.**

 **Thank you all once again for being so patient. The current plan is to continue to update every Tuesday, starting next week. Since editing 10,000 word long chapters a week is a little strenuous on my schedule, I plan to separate them into multiple chapters. As I work through this, the chapter count will be going up. I expect there to be ~50 chapters? I'll know for sure in a few weeks! But the shorter chapters mean more frequent updates, and less long reading for you all! Yay!**

 **Thanks for reading. A huge thank you to everyone who has left a review, favourited, or followed this fic. Also, thank you to everyone who has reached out to me on Twitter and Tumblr. Y'all are the best and keep me inspired. THANK YOU!**

 **See you next Tuesday!**

 **Paw**


	24. Chapter 24: Simple Pleasures

**For all of the late updates recently, here is the next chapter, as promised! To be honest, this is probably my favourite chapter of this fic so far. As I wrote this chapter, I realized that this was a huge theme of the fic, which explains the chapter title.**

 **While this chapter doesn't have as much violence and blood as the previous chapters, there is still some.**

 **This chapter is set right after the events of chapter 23. Originally, this was the last half of chapter 23, but was split due to length.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 24: Simple Pleasures**

* * *

 _Day 3 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke leaned across Octavia's body and rested her hand on Bellamy's forearm. She felt her skin come alive from the simple contact. His eyes snapped to hers. It broke her heart to see him so lost and broken.

"What happened?" Her voice was quiet and unsure.

She didn't know if she should even ask. After all, she didn't want to talk about what she had to do over the last two days. _Kick a girl, letting her tumble to her death. Stitch up Murphy, allowing his blood to cover her hands. Starve half to death. Go without water. Lead her teammates across the arena, with absolutely no idea what she was doing. Kill Atom, trying to show him mercy by taking his life._ Her mind felt like it was too full from the past few days. She couldn't process it, not yet. She didn't have the time to.

Bellamy's eyes flicked over to Wells, who was crouched by the head of Octavia. Bellamy frowned and shifted uneasily. Clarke got the message. He didn't want to talk about what horrors he experienced with him listening.

She understood. There were many things she only wanted to talk to Bellamy about. There were things she refused to open herself up to Wells about. Plus, they didn't know each other outside of the fact they were always at each other's throats. Of course he wasn't going to be comfortable talking with him there.

"Wells, can you wait outside, please?" She hoped he understood what she was asking and why she was asking it.

He looked at her, confusion on his face. She could see the determination in him and she internally sighed. "What?" He squared his jaw, defiance in his eyes. "No. I'm not leaving you alone with _him._ I-"

"Wells. I'll be fine." She stared at him for a long moment. She hoped he remembered their conversation from earlier – about how much she had connected and cared about Bellamy. She trusted him, even if nobody else did.

Finally, Wells nodded. He clearly wasn't happy about losing. "Fine." He turned to Bellamy, his eyes flashing. "If you hurt her, I will-"

Bellamy's jaw locked. "I won't," he promised. As he spoke to Wells, the pain that she seen in him disappeared, leaving only defiance and strength behind.

Wells looked at him for a long moment. Clarke couldn't read his expression. After several beats, he nodded at him. "Give me your weapons."

Her heart skipped a beat at that. "Wells!" Clarke snapped. He glanced back at her, not thrown by her astonishment.

"If he doesn't have a weapon, he can't hurt you." Clarke blew a piece of her hair away from her face.

"You're being ridiculous, Wells." Bellamy wouldn't hurt her. She knew him. She knew he wouldn't do that.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him until I have his weapons." Clarke glanced away from him, a frown on her face. "Weapons, Blake. _Now_." He held out his hand towards Bellamy. They glared at each other for a long moment.

Knowing he wasn't going to win the argument, Bellamy sighed and pulled out a knife from his holster. He gestured to outside the cave. "My sword is out there."

Wells looked at him accusingly. "That's all you have? One sword and one knife?" Bellamy glared at him. "Fine. I guess I'll believe that." He moved to the mouth of the cave and turned back to face Clarke. His expression softened. "We'll be out here. Call if you need me."

Even though she was annoyed with him, she couldn't help but soften with his words. He was a good friend, in a Wells way. He didn't know Bellamy and he didn't trust him. It was nice he was wanting to protect her, even if she knew there was nothing needing protection from. She nodded and he disappeared.

 _Once again, it was just the Blakes and Clarke._

Bellamy and Clarke were silent for a moment, waiting until Wells started a conversation outside with the rest of her alliance. Bellamy was staring intently at his sister, watching her breathing. Clarke slowly moved around Octavia so she could sit beside him.

He didn't need prompting to speak. It was almost like he was aching to talk to someone about it – to get it all off of his chest. "It was the bloodbath." His voice was strained and distant. "The Careers. Ontari." He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair.

 _Of course it was them._ He didn't need to speak in complete sentences – she understood.

Clarke felt anger rise within her. _The Careers._ She knew they were bloodthirsty, but to go after the Blakes was stupid. She knew Ontari was angry that Bellamy refused to join the Career pack – she attacked her multiple times for it, and now she had almost killed Octavia.

All for what? For revenge? It was stupid and it didn't make sense.

"When the buzzer rang, Octavia and I planned to go for the weapons first. Get what we needed, pick up a backpack, and go. We knew the Careers would be after us, it's not like they hid that fact." Bellamy sounded like he was in a different world as he spoke. Clarke reached out for him, trying to provide _some_ comfort. The palm of her hand rested lightly against the back of his.

"I was running, but I stopped to pick up that backpack. I guess while I was doing that, the Careers beat me to the Cornucopia." She could sense his body tense. He was mad. She could only hope he was mad at the Careers pack – not himself. "I ran into the Cornucopia, but Octavia wasn't there. I got my sword. I waited for her for a minute. She wasn't coming." He cleared his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly. She squeezed his hand. "I looked around for her, and that's when I seen them."

Clarke glanced down at Octavia's injuries. _She knew what was coming_.

"The three Careers all had their weapons and were fighting her. Octavia still hadn't made it to the Cornucopia, and all she managed to find was a small knife. She had to fight them off with a knife – it was her against their weapons. It was horrifying." Just seeing the way Bellamy spoke about it convinced Clarke that he was reliving a time that was as terrifying as a nightmare. Even after days, his mind was still trapped in that moment.

"The girl from District 4 – she looked hurt. Cage wasn't around either, but the two tributes from District 1 were too much for her." His jaw clenched. "Ontari stabbed her. And I watched. I couldn't do anything except watch; I was too far away." He rubbed his face with his free hand. Bellamy's hand turned around to lock onto hers, surprising Clarke. She swallowed thickly, trying to keep her own tears at bay, and squeezed his hand in silent support. "I threw a knife and hit Roan in the leg. It didn't kill them, but it was enough to scare them away. They ran into the forest, leaving me with her."

Clarke had kept silent the whole time he spoke. She was overwhelmed by the emotions he was feeling. She had come to care about Octavia in her own way too, not just because she was Bellamy's little sister. She had sat on the roof that one night with her and Bellamy, even though she was so exhausted she couldn't keep her eyes open. She talked to Clarke while Bellamy climbed the rock wall and truly opened up to her about her mother and how Bellamy took care of her. Octavia was willing to put herself in danger for her and Bellamy, shown by when Bellamy threatened Cage in retribution for what he did to Clarke.

Even though she wasn't as close to the youngest Blake as she was with Bellamy, she still cared about her. Seeing Bellamy's heartbreak added to her heartbreak too. He loved his sister with every fibre of his being, and he was losing her. He felt like he failed her.

"I carried her here," Bellamy said. "I ran until it was dark out and we had to stop. I tried to do what I could, but I had no idea how to help. All I could do was keep wrapping it." Clarke ran her thumb across the back of his hand. He turned to face her. He looked desperate and broken, just a shell of who she knew.

She wished she could take all of his pain away. If she could, she would've. She would've taken his pain and shouldered it herself. If she had the power to, she wouldn't let him suffer.

Her heart broke for him. Gods, was there anything she could do to help? What would she need in this moment? What could _he_ do if they roles were reversed?

 _Reassure him. Hold him. Comfort him. Keep him together. Give him your strength._

She wished she could give him her strength. She would gladly trade anything to help him through this.

"You did good, Bellamy," she said, her voice hoarse. "She's alive. She's still breathing. Her wound wasn't infected. She didn't lose too much blood. She's alive _because of you."_

He didn't show any signs that he heard her. "I should've asked you had to do first aid," Bellamy mumbled. "All I kept wishing for was _you,_ Clarke. I wanted you here." If she thought her heart was aching before, she was wrong. _Gods,_ it felt like she was falling apart beside him. His voice broke as he spoke and he wiped his eyes. "I wanted you here because I knew you would know how to save Octavia." He met her eyes again. " _And I needed you._ I needed you – not just for Octavia, but for me too."

Clarke swallowed thickly, suddenly hit with a wave of emotions. Gods, she needed him too.

"I'm here now."

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He pulled her close to him and buried his nose in her hair, just like he did outside. He held her tighter than she ever had been held before, almost like she would disappear if he let her go. She grabbed fistfuls of his jacket and held him just as tightly.

For the first time since she had been in the arena, she felt safe. Just being around him brought some peace to her life. Being in his arms made her feel protected, like nothing could touch her. They weren't just tributes – they were more than that.

She felt like she could cry. She missed him so much. She needed him by her side. Gods, when did he become this important to her? When did she decide that it hurt to live without him?

"Clarke, it's getting dark. We've got to get moving. We- Oh." Lincoln was walking into the cave, but stopped once he seen them embracing.

As much as it pained Clarke to do, she pulled away from Bellamy. She wasn't afraid that he seen them hugging – that was the least of her worries now – but she was _really_ not in the mood for judgement at that moment.

Lincoln pretended not to have noticed anything. The muscles in his jaw tightened. "If we're going to find a camp anytime soon, we've got to leave now," he continued speaking. With his words, Clarke's heart stopped. She looked at Lincoln, feeling numbness rise in her.

"Leave?" she repeated. Lincoln looked at her like he didn't understand what she was talking about. A horrible feeling was rising in her.

 _They wanted to leave._ Her alliance didn't plan to stay with the Blakes. They really planned to continue through the arena, forgetting completely about Bellamy and Octavia.

Her heart turned to ice. _No._ She couldn't do that. She wouldn't do that. She didn't want to leave Bellamy again. Just the thought of it made her heart flash with pain.

She turned to Bellamy. He looked shocked by Lincoln's words too. She tried to smile, to reassure him that things would work out. _It was a lie._ She didn't know if things would work out or not. "I'll be right back."

She climbed off the ground and out of the cave, leaving Bellamy alone with Octavia. As soon as she was out of the cave, she rounded on Lincoln. "We're leaving?"

She turned to the rest of the group, who were lounging around the mouth of the cave. Charlotte was sleeping, pressed against Raven's side. Wells was sitting the closest to her, her sword in his lap. As soon as she was through the rocks, he was up and standing beside her.

"Wells?" she pressed. "We're leaving?"

He couldn't look at her. It felt like her stomach was lead.

"Look, we don't trust them," Murphy said, cracking his eye open. He looked more relaxed than tired, but he still looked annoyed. Clarke felt a spark of annoyance rise in her as well. _He tried to kill Bellamy._ She knew she really shouldn't hold it against him, but it was hard to separate logic from emotion. "We stopped. I didn't hurt them. You helped them. They used a shit ton of our supplies; our bandages, gauze, sanitizer, and water." He pushed off the ground, straightening up. "It's nice you helped, Princess, but they're Careers. They'll just stab us in the back if we get all buddy-buddy with them."

"I agree with him," Lincoln said quickly, preventing Clarke from speaking. "It's dangerous. _They're dangerous._ We don't know them. We don't know their long game strategy. This could be a… a…"

"A set up?" Clarke finished his sentence, annoyance clear in her features. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. " _Right_. Because Octavia planned to get stabbed half to death. It's all part of their game plan, right?"

Nobody could respond to that. _Of course they couldn't._ It didn't make sense. Why would Bellamy and Octavia want to hurt them? _She knew them._ This wasn't part of a stupid plan to win the Games. She talked with them for hours. They weren't like that.

Plus, seeing Bellamy absolutely destroyed emotionally in the cave couldn't be a lie. Nobody could pretend to be that upset, no matter how much training they had.

Finally, Wells spoke up. "I hate to say it, but if Bellamy had any intentions of killing us, he would've done it already. Plus, he surrendered all his weapons willingly."

" _Sure he did._ " Murphy closed his eyes again and rested his head back on a backpack. "I still don't trust him."

Clarke had to turn her head away from him, to stop herself from glaring. She didn't want to cause a rift in the group over anything. She didn't want to make anyone upset – she really didn't. Even though she cared about Bellamy, she cared about her alliance too.

She couldn't lose her alliance. They trusted her. They chose her to lead them – to help them survive. She had to think logically here, to cast aside her emotions. She needed to use her head – not her heart.

"I didn't exactly trust you either, but you're not half bad," Raven pointed out, speaking for the first time. Clarke felt her heart race with her words, coming alive with hope. She squished it quickly. "If Clarke trusts him, that's good enough for me."

Clarke smiled wearily at her. "Thanks, Raven, but I'm not going to force anyone to stay here." The words felt heavy on her tongue. "If you don't feel safe, I understand. These Games are made to tear us apart. They're made so we _don't_ feel safe. If you think you need to leave to survive, then I'm not stopping you." She shifted on her feet. Gods, she felt like she was going to throw up. "If not everyone wants to stay, we will leave. Either we're all comfortable, or we find a new place that does make us comfortable." Her heart broke as she spoke. She wanted nothing more than to walk back into the cave and sit with Bellamy again. She felt safe in his arms. _She felt like she was home._

But she knew she had a duty to her friends. She promised to lead them – to keep them safe. She wasn't going to let her emotions cloud her judgement. While she cared about Bellamy and Octavia, she also cared about her friends. They were her first priority – not him.

"I'm willing to stay," Wells said immediately.

Her heart grew warm from his actions. He jumped in front of Murphy to protect Bellamy, alongside her. He helped perform surgery on Octavia, even though he didn't know her. He spoke up against their allies in favor of him. He knew how much she cared about them – she told him the other day. _He was a good friend._ Even though he didn't know them and didn't exactly trust them, he was doing this for her.

"Like I said, if Clarke trusts them, that's good enough for me," Raven added. Clarke sent her a warm smile. For the second time, her heart filled with hope. _Maybe things would work out._ Maybe she wouldn't be separated from Bellamy again.

"This is a good place to camp. It has shelter. I'm fairly sure a water source will be nearby – we're right in a valley." Monty lifted his fingers as he went through his list. "Even if we don't trust the Blakes, we outnumber them. Octavia can't move. Bellamy won't have a weapon. One of us will constantly be on watch." He nodded his head, determined with his thought. "I'm willing to stay." Clarke smiled at him and tried to ignore the way her heart was pounding in her chest. Now, only Lincoln, Murphy and Charlotte had to agree.

"I trust you, Clarke," Charlotte spoke up. She must've woken up from the conversation around her. They weren't exactly being quiet. "Bellamy was always nice to me." Clarke thought back to their first day of training. Bellamy had thanked her for taking Charlotte under her wing. That was how they first connected – they both hated to see children like her in the Games. _She knew he cared about her_. "I trust him. Let's stay."

"I don't trust him," Lincoln said. "He's a Career – they're all the same. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Selfish." Clarke was getting nervous. Was he going to say no? Would she have to leave the Blakes? She knew it would break her heart. "But Monty is right. This is a good place to camp – at least for one night." She let out a breath. "I'm willing to stay – as long as they don't get any weapons and we have a constant watch on them."

"We'll get that," she promised. She hoped Bellamy agreed to his conditions. She thought he would; he gave up his weapons willingly already, she doubted he would make a fuss to get them back.

She turned to Murphy. _The last vote._ If he said no, they would all have to leave.

"Murphy," Raven said slowly. "We're all okay with this. You are too, right?"

She appreciated Raven trying to help, she did, but she needed Murphy to be comfortable with this for himself – not because he was trying to keep on good terms with the other girl.

She didn't dare speak what she was thinking. Gods, she hoped he said yes. _Please say yes._

Murphy rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Screw it," he said. "We'll stay." Clarke smiled in relief and let out the breath she was holding.

"Good. _Great_. I-"

" _But_ ," Murphy said, sitting up. " _I'm_ on watch tonight. I don't trust them." Lincoln nodded in agreement.

"I'll take second watch," he said. Clarke nodded at the two of them. That was an acceptable compromise.

"Thank you." Murphy rolled his eyes and Lincoln nodded back to her. She turned to Wells and smiled softly at him. They knew each other well enough for him to understand what she meant. _Thank you._

"I'm going to talk to him. You all can move into the cave, if you want. There'll be enough room." The group started collecting their things as Clarke disappeared back into the cave.

She made her way over to Bellamy, who was still watching Octavia with baited breath. She dropped to the ground beside him. She was tempted to move into his side, like they sat for so many hours on the roof. "Hey."

"Hey." He turned to look at her, his eyes unsure. "You're leaving." He smiled thinly. "I guess this is where we say goodbye again, huh?"

Clarke moved forward without thinking, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. She couldn't help but smile against his skin.

When she pulled back, she happily noted that he was smiling too. _She loved his smile._ "I'm not going anywhere," she promised him. "We decided to stay with you two. If that's okay." Bellamy smirked.

"I know I said I didn't want to be allies. I know I said we shouldn't be around each other in the arena. I wanted to try and forget you – forget everything. _But I can't._ I tried it that way and it only hurt Octavia more." He reached for her hand, winding their finger together. "I'm glad you're here."

His words almost broke down the walls she had rebuilt. She had put herself behind barriers and behind walls to survive – she couldn't break those down. _Not yet at least._ She knew that if she did, she wouldn't be able to put them back up.

"I'm glad I'm here, too," she said. "I really am. I didn't think I would ever see you again." She turned her head away from him and blinked rapidly, trying to keep her tears at bay. "My alliance has agreed to stay," Clarke continued. "You're not allowed any weapons and there will someone constantly watching you." She glanced at him curiously. "Are you okay with that?"

"Yes." He answered without hesitation.

She seemed to sense desperation and _hope_ within him, curiously enough. He was about to say something to her, but was interrupted by Wells. He was the first of the group to climb back into the cave. His eyes locked on their intertwined hands, yet his expression was unreadable. Instead of pulling away like last time, she only gripped him tighter.

 _She thought she lost him._

She didn't think she would ever see him again. But he was alive. He was okay. He was sitting right in front of her.

Against all odds, they found each other again.

They were like two moths drawn to a flame. Clarke seemed to gravitate towards him, ever since the beginning. Once again, she found her way back to him. _Back home._

Her group sat in the furthers point away from the Blakes and herself. She knew that they didn't trust him yet. They thought that he was going to kill them. They thought he was just another Career – emotionless, distant, uncaring, cruel. _A monster._

But she knew different. _She knew him_. They had spent countless hours together, talking about anything and everything. He knew her darkest secrets and she knew his biggest fears. She knew who he was and _Bellamy Blake was not a monster_.

He cared for people more than he cared for himself. He willingly gave up his life to fight for his sister. He wanted to grow old with someone he loved, to become a teacher, to have a bunch of children. He gave all of himself to others, over and over again. _He cared too much for his own good._

He wasn't a monster. She trusted him with her life, and so much more. She cared for him more than what was good for her.

As they were getting their items in order, Murphy's stomach let out a loud growl. Charlotte giggled at that, which sent the rest of their group into stitches. Bellamy even cracked a smile.

It was absurd to be laughing at something so small. It was absurd that they were laughing at all, considering where they were and why they were there. Still, it felt good to laugh. It felt good to let go of some of the tension in herself – the darkness in her spirit – and _laugh._

"Ha ha. Very funny. Laugh at a starving man." Murphy scowled, which only caused them to laugh harder. Clarke sobered after a while, but she couldn't wipe the silly smile off her face.

"We need food."

Those three words from Monty broke the light mood. It was true though, and it wasn't something to laugh at. They ran out earlier and they didn't forage that day.

Lincoln frowned and opened up the bag he was carrying – it was once full of food. Now, not even a single nut remained.

"We were supposed to gather today." Clarke pushed her lips together.

"I know. We didn't." She swore and leaned back, releasing Bellamy's hand in the process. She was terrified all of a sudden. _They needed food to survive._

Bellamy bent over to his backpack and started digging. As he moved, the group went on high alert, jumping into action. Murphy lifted a knife, poised to throw. Clarke's heart flew to her mouth.

"Hey," he snapped. "What do you think you're doing?" Bellamy slowly lifted his hands out of his backpack, a package of dried berries in his hands. As soon as Murphy seen the packaging, he lowered his knife.

"I'm just getting out food." He tossed the package towards their end of the cave. "It's yours now." Murphy's face broke out into a grin and he lunged for the package. Lincoln was still staring at Bellamy, distrust in his eyes. "I'm just trying to help." Lincoln didn't respond. Bellamy turned back to Clarke. "I have more food in my bag. Can I get it?"

"You're not a prisoner, Bellamy. My allies need to realize this." She sent Lincoln and Murphy a stern look. While it was fine to not trust him – they didn't really know him –it was a whole other thing to treat him so poorly. Still, Bellamy waited for her permission. "You can go into your bag."

This time, he slowly moved to it and pulled out another package of food. It was an identical package to the dried meat that Raven found in her bag.

"This is all I have," he told everyone. "We'll have to hunt tomorrow."

Lincoln narrowed his eyes. " _We_ will. Not you." Bellamy tossed the package of dried meat towards him. He caught it easily.

"Fine by me." Bellamy's jaw was set and his hands were curled into fists. Clarke could tell he was getting frustrated by the situation. She leaned forward and brushed her fingertips against the back of his hand, reassuring him. He turned to her and sent her a soft smile.

They ate the two packages of food and drank most of the water they had left. Both tasks felt risky to Clarke. They didn't know when they would find game to hunt or a place to collect water. The pond was already half a day of walking away – they couldn't exactly go back there for more water.

Clarke pushed those thoughts away. She had those same worries every night when she realized they didn't have enough supplies, and, everyday, they survived. _They would be okay_. Like Bellamy said, they just needed to hunt tomorrow.

She pushed off from the ground and made her way to Murphy. This had been their routine now – she would check that his bandages were holding up every few hours. She knew she couldn't waste medical supplies, but she hated leaving the dirty bandages on for too long. Infections could kill.

The group kept chatting as she worked away on his arm. She could feel eyes on her back as she worked, but she tried to ignore it. She knew it was Bellamy watching her. Somehow, even his eyes on her made her feel more complete.

As she cleaned his wound and changed the bandages, her mind drifted away.

 _She almost kissed Bellamy._

The night before the Games, she had almost kissed him. Or, he almost kissed her. She doubted it mattered at that point. _The point was, they almost kissed._

She wasn't too sure what to make of it still. She wasn't too sure what to make of her emotions either.

She cared about him – there was no question about that. Her heart beat faster every time she was around him. A bolt of electricity ran up her spine every time their skin touched. She only felt safe around him and like she could truly be herself. He plagued her thoughts, even when she tried to put him out of her mind. All she could think about was the way his lips quirked up when he smiled and the way his eyes gleamed with hope and joy when they spoke of the future.

She risked her life for him. When Lincoln was charging at him with a sword, she didn't hesitate to jump in front of him. He could've accidentally killed her when she threw herself between him and his target. _She didn't regret it though._ And she didn't even _think_ when she did it. She never questioned what she was doing.

She didn't know what to make of it.

All she knew was that she wanted his lips on hers. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms for as long as possible because he made her feel whole and he made her feel human.

 _That_ was something hard to find in the arena.

* * *

Later that night, she was sitting outside of the cave, watching the anthem in the sky. She didn't hear any canons that day, but she was also preoccupied with the Blakes for most of the day. She could've missed something, and she couldn't risk not knowing about it by not watching the sky.

Once again, most of her alliance had fallen asleep, as well as the two Blakes. Clarke doubted Bellamy slept at all since they were dropped in the arena. The skin under his eyes was dark, his eyes looked haunted, and he was sluggish as the adrenaline left his system. Bellamy had positioned himself between Octavia and the others inside the cave; clearly, he didn't trust them either.

Wells came out of the cave and moved to sit beside her. She smiled as he did. It felt good to have him in her life again.

He opened his arm and she fell into his side happily. This was familiar to both of them – staring at the stars together. It was something they did back home, when they were both just kids. They were silent for a long moment, listening to the wind rustling the trees around them.

"Thanks for today," Clarke told him, referring to standing beside her against Lincoln and Murphy. She knew he didn't like Bellamy, but he still risked his life for him because he knew how much he meant to her. He truly was a good man and an even better best friend.

"What's going on with you and him?" he prompted. She pulled away from him slightly and tilted her head so her hair covered her glowing cheeks. She hoped he wouldn't see her blush.

"Nothing." _Liar._ "We just trained together." She bit the inside of her cheek to stop the smile from spreading. _Training partners that almost kissed._

Wells snorted at her answer. "I know you, Clarke," he mumbled. "I see the way you look at him. I see the way _he looks at you._ " Her heart skipped a beat at that. "You're more than just people who trained together."

"Wells, you don't know what your-"

"I might not know anything about him, but I know you." Clarke clamped her mouth shut at this. "I know you care about him – you told me that yourself. You were hurting because you knew you wouldn't see him again." He rubbed her arm gently as he spoke. "You jumped in front of a sword for him today. You wouldn't do that for just anybody." Clarke smirked at that. _Only for Bellamy._

"I seen you two – with my own eyes. The way you two collided after the danger was gone. I've never seen you like that; so open and so vulnerable with someone you barely know." He stopped himself and quickly corrected. "Someone _I_ barely know." Clarke was about to say something, but he shook his head, letting her know he wasn't done speaking yet. "You two held each other like you were clinging to the edge of a cliff. You trusted him without any hesitation."

"He's never done anything to hurt me. Of course I trust him."

Wells shook his head. "He _couldn't_ do anything to you outside of the arena. Tributes were strictly forbidden from hurting other tributes. We're encouraged to hurt each other in here. This was the first time you seen him where he could hurt you and get away with it, but you never second guessed yourself." Clarke was stunned. She never thought of it that way. She never even considered not trusting Bellamy.

"You worked for over an hour on Octavia, stitching her back together. You did everything you could to save her." He snorted. "I'm not stupid, Clarke. I seen the way he looked at you – like you were his whole world. I seen the way you comforted him."

Clarke was still silent. She was at a loss of words. "I don't understand…"

"Stop being in denial," Wells said. "I've known you since before we were crawling. I know how hard it is for you to trust new people, but you let him in." He caught her eyes again. "I know how stubborn you are too."

"Hey."

"Why are you holding back?" he asked. He shook his head and turned to the sky again. " _Gods_ , I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered to himself. Still, he looked at her determinedly. "Why are you trying to deny that you're head over heels for him?" Clarke was stunned into silence. She opened and closed her mouth multiple times, trying to come up with a response. "Don't deny it. I know you. I know you like him." He smirked at her shocked face.

"We're in the Hunger Games," she finally squeaked out. "We're tributes. We're fighting for our lives. There isn't any time for crushes or romance. We are here to survive. Love doesn't have any place in that."

"On the contrary, if we can't love now, when _can_ we love?" She was shocked by how perceptive he sounded in that moment. "I love you. Does that make me less likely to survive?" He leaned forward when she didn't respond. "Clarke, we only have a few days left – all together. We could die tomorrow. Hell, we could die tonight. What's the point of locking yourself away from him? What's the point in denying how you feel for him?"

She glanced to the grass beneath them, focusing on the blades swaying in the wind. She let her mind wonder for a moment; she tried to sort out all her thoughts.

" _I know I care for him,_ " she admitted after a while. The words felt strange to speak out loud. Just saying them felt like a dam burst in her chest. _Oh, gods, she cared about him so much_. "I care so much for Bellamy that it's tearing me apart." Tears sprang to her eyes. She couldn't lose him – not again. "I already know I'm in too deep. It's like he hold a piece of my soul and… and I can't let him hold anymore. I can't let myself fall any more for him. _I can't._ Because he'll die, or I'll die. And then what? It'll all be for nothing."

"Love is never worth nothing," Wells told her. "Love is the reason why we fight. Love is the reason why we survive. Without love, we have nothing." He squeezed her shoulders, pulling her tighter into his side. "Don't be afraid to love, Clarke. That pain afterwards? That's just a reminder that you were lucky enough to love them. The hole you feel when someone dies – that shouldn't be feared. That just _proves_ that they were loved enough to leave an impact on someone." She mulled over his words. "These are our final days, Clarke. Why deny ourselves the simple pleasures?"

"The simple pleasures," she repeated, the corners of her lips quirking up. She liked that.

"Like letting yourself be as happy as possible until death. _Let yourself fall for him_. Don't be scared of the pain that'll come with losing him. Love passionately until the second you die – which could be at any moment. We're about to die – why stop yourself from being happy?"

Clarke let out a small chuckle. "I can't believe you're actually encouraging me to love _a Career_ ," she teased.

Wells lifted his eyebrow. "Love, huh?" Her cheeks lit up in a blush darker than the blood on her hands. "I'm just teasing you. Feel whatever way you want, Clarke. Love, like, hate – just be true to yourself." He settled against the rocks behind his back. He blew out a breath of air. "Even if you die, at least you would know what it's like to love him – even for the briefest moment."

Clarke looked up to the stars and settled back into his side, thinking over Wells' words.

He was right. They were possibly seconds away from death, why deny her feelings any longer? Why would she push down her feelings for Bellamy, when she would never have another opportunity in her life to express them? If she lived through the Games, she didn't want to look back and regret not loving someone enough. Even if it brought her pain, she wanted to look back and know she loved him as much as she could.

Despite the pain it would bring her, she would rather know that she loved someone as much as she could before they died. Knowing and falling for Bellamy Blake would be worth any amount of pain to follow.

Wells was right. She cared for him. She cared for him more than a friend would. She felt like she was on fire every time he brushed against her. Every time he looked at her, she felt like she could combust. His arms were her home, and she felt safe with him. He made her feel free – more free than the stars ever could. Her heart yearned to be with him, to love him as much as she could before they died.

 _She wanted to be loved by him too._

She wanted to wake up in the mornings, covered in mud and blood, knowing that Bellamy was beside her. She wanted him to smile at her like he had on the roof again. She wanted to feel the burn in her chest as his fingers brushed against her knuckles, or the rapid beat of her heart when he pulled her to his side. She wanted to love him and be loved by him.

Why deny herself the simple pleasures in life?

Why deny herself the simple pleasure of falling for Bellamy Blake?

* * *

 **I love that conversation between Wells and Clarke. I feel like it captures the heart of the fic – that even though only one person will survive, it's still worth enjoying the simple pleasures and it's still worth searching for happiness. Even though it wont last forever, it's still worth to find. I just feel like the idea of enjoying the simple pleasures is a main theme of the fic, which is why I chose this conversation to be the one to inspire the title of the fic.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! I adore this chapter and I would love to know what everyone else thought of it.**

 **Once again, no tribute died in this chapter. If you want to know who is still alive, there is a full list at the end of chapter 22.**

 **I forgot to mention last chapter; now that Bellamy and Clarke are reunited, the rest of this fic is basically just them. (Kidding – I still love my delinquents + Lincoln as tributes). But there's a whole lot more Bellarke in this fic and I'm just so excited about it. You all aren't ready for the fluff and angst.**

 **Thanks for reading, as always. Review are really appreciated. I know I've been gone for a while, so if you let me know you're still reading, I would love that haha.**

 **See you next Tuesday!**

 **Paw**


	25. Chapter 25: Love is Why We Fight

**Surprise! Here is an early update to celebrate the fact this fic hit 500 kudos, 100 bookmarks, and 10,000 hits on AO3! Thank you to everyone who has read this fic – it means the world to me.**

 **This chapter is a lot shorter than the last few ones, which I'm happy about! The shorter the chapter is, the faster it is to edit. I hope the content makes up for the length!**

 **Warnings: minor blood/gore, coarse language**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 25: Love is Why We Fight**

* * *

 _Day 4 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke leaned away from Octavia and sanitized her hands. She had just finished changing the bandages that covered her wound. Bellamy was hanging over her shoulder as she checked Octavia's pulse.

It was still rapid, but that was to be expected. In fact, Octavia's recovery was beyond what she had hoped for. She was a fighter, just like her brother. She was still obviously in pain, slipping in and out of consciousness, but she wasn't screaming or crying like she expected someone with an injury like that to be doing. So far, no infection had reached her – she had no fever and no warm wounds. She was doing well.

 _But she still got stabbed_.

She wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon.

"She's too sick to move," Clarke determined, pulling back. She tucked the sleeping girl back in and turned to Bellamy. "She's okay for now. No infections. I'm just worried that if we move her, her condition will worsen." Bellamy nodded his head, looking distant. Clarke reached across and placed her hand on his forearm. "The first 24 hours are the hardest after a procedure like yesterday, but she's doing good. We'll keep an eye on her." Bellamy nodded his head again and turned back to his sister.

Clarke decided to give the siblings some space, so she shuffled over to the opposite side of the cave where her allies were sitting. Despite having spent the night with the Blakes, they were still distant. Clarke understood why, even if she wished it wasn't the case. Trust was hard to build in the arena. It was one thing that the Capitol wanted to destroy – they wanted them to have no trust, no humanity.

"We need food," Murphy pointed out, throwing the empty food wrapper to the ground. Raven glared at him and picked it up. He didn't bat an eye. "We are completely out of food and we're almost out of water." He raised his eyebrows. "Nobody wants to be the one to say it, so I will. We need to keep moving. Stop playing house."

Clarke fought the urge to narrow her eyes. "I'm not playing house," she replied, her voice tight.

"She performed an operation and helped save a tribute," Wells agreed. "Nobody's playing anything, Murphy."

"Nobody asked you," he snapped. Clarke sighed.

Recently, Wells and Murphy had started stepping on each other's toes. Now that they weren't running away from the bloodbath or dying of dehydration, they had enough energy to argue.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Since the first second they seen each other, they had been at each other's throats. Murphy loved to antagonize Wells because of who his father was, Wells loved to go against anything and everything Murphy said. They were like a spark in a room full of oxygen.

"Octavia is too sick to move," Clarke said. "We need to stay here, just a little longer."

Murphy scoffed. "Why are we waiting around for her?" His nose wrinkled. "She's a _Career_." Wells gave him a snide look. Clarke appreciated him standing up for the Blakes. It was nice to know someone else was on her side. Murphy caught sight of Wells' expression. "Listen, Mayor Jaha, this isn't up to you."

Wells glared harder. He was about to come up with what was sure to be a witty reply, but her knuckles brushed against the side of his arm. That seemed to break him out of whatever mood Murphy had set him in and his mouth clamped shut.

Clarke could tell they were all getting restless by being in the cave with two people they didn't trust. They were thirsty, hungry and scared. Only eight tributes had died so far – that was the least in all of the Games she had watched. Usually at least ten died in the bloodbath. It looked like they were in for a long Games.

 _Of course._

"We need more food," Clarke stated. Murphy was right about that. She stood up from the muddy ground and dusted off her pants. "I'm going to go forage." Wells stood up to go with her, but she leaned forward. They locked eyes. "Stay here. _Watch them_. They're still hostile towards the Blakes." Clarke didn't think they would actually attack them, but Murphy was unpredictable. He felt threatened and unsafe – who knows what he would be willing to do to stay safe.

Wells' eyes flicked across the cave, coming to rest on the Blakes. After a few seconds, he glanced at Clarke again. "Maybe you should take Bellamy with you?" Clarke shot him a look and he tried to hide his grin. "They won't attack Octavia, not while she's injured and not able to defend herself. But Bellamy? They'll have no issues attacking him." He lifted his eyebrow. "Plus, if I'm going to stay here, you'll need help."

Clarke chewed on her lips and her eyes flicked to Bellamy. He sat against the cave wall, his eyes closed and head resting against the rocks.

Wells did have a point. She doubted anyone would think about hurting Octavia if she was passed out, but she could almost see Murphy sucking Bellamy into an argument. Wells wouldn't be able to stop a fight if it broke out between them.

"Seriously," he stressed. "Unless you want to take Murphy." Clarke snorted. "Exactly."

She really didn't need to be convinced. "Okay." She squeezed his arm in thanks and crossed the cave to where Bellamy was sitting.

Clarke tried to hide her smile. The truth was, she was dying to spend some time alone with Bellamy. While it had only been a few days since they were last together, it felt like a lifetime ago.

His eyes opened when he sensed her presence. "Are you up for some hunting?" For a brief moment, he looked excited. Then, his smile drooped and his eyes flicked to Octavia's sleeping form.

Before he could even speak, Wells was talking. "I'll watch her. I can yell for the both of you if something happens."

Bellamy still looked unsure. Clarke knew he was worried about leaving her while she was still injured, and she knew he didn't trust her allies either. She wanted him to come with her, but she wasn't going to force him into going.

"If you aren't comfortable, that's okay," she told him. "I can go myself. I'll manage."

"You're not going out there by yourself," Bellamy said, his eyes intense. "It's dangerous."

"Come with me," she asked him again. "Octavia is stable. Wells will watch her. The alliance is getting restless being trapped in here with you. Let's get some fresh air." Bellamy stared at her for a long moment. She could sense he was torn. "If you don't want to, I won't force you. I understand why-"

"I'll come," he cut her off. He stood up and brushed the leaves from his pants. "I'm just worried about Octavia."

He had such a caring heart.

"I know. You don't have to leave her."

"I know I don't have to. She'll be fine." He turned to Wells. "You'll watch her?"

"Of course." Clarke smiled at how determined and genuine Wells looked. Bellamy must've been impressed by his response too, since he was smiling when he turned back to Clarke.

"Alright then. Let's go."

As soon as she left the cave, she took a deep breath in, letting the fresh air fill her lungs. The cave smelt of moss, mold, blood, and wet mud. It was nauseating. Being in the open air made her feel like a new person. Her shoulders instantly relaxed.

"It feels so good," she mumbled. Bellamy was standing only a few inches behind her, a hand resting on her shoulder. She couldn't stop her lips from twitching into a smile at the contact.

"That cave is the worst," he muttered. "I've never been so crammed in my life." Clarke couldn't agree more. It was a tight fit in the small cave with nine tributes stuffed in there.

Clarke and Bellamy fell inline with each other as they headed into the woods. She fought the urge to reach out and take his hand. She knew that holding hands in the middle of the arena was stupid; they'd need to be ready to fight at any moment, and being joined together slowed down their reaction time.

She tried to keep her mind off of how much she wanted to tell him how much he meant to her. She tried not to think about his lips on hers; or, how she _imagined_ it would feel. She didn't want to think about how his warm breath ghosted across her face, nor did she want to think about his fingers brushing hair off of her cheek.

Instead, she cleared her throat and reached into her jacket pocket. "Here, you might need this." She handed him the extra knife that she carried. He took it cautiously, eyeing her suspiciously.

"You're not worried you're arming me?" She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

"I know you won't hurt me," she said simply. That answer seemed good enough to him. He slipped the knife into the holster around his waist. To keep her mind away from his lips, she kept talking "I expect Octavia will be stable enough to move by tomorrow. Maybe we could move to a better location then. Somewhere roomier would be nice."

Bellamy's smile fell. " _You'll_ move somewhere different," he corrected. Clarke's heart clenched. "Your alliance won't want to stay with me. The only reason half of them agreed to stay was because of the cave." He sucked in a quick breath and slipped on a mask. She knew this reaction of his well. He was hiding his emotions. "It'll be okay though. It was nice to see you one more time."

Clarke glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His hands were shoved deeply in his pockets and he wore an unreadable expression.

She ignored the pang of hurt in her chest. She wasn't going to lose him – not again. The more time she spent with him, the more she was sure she didn't want to separate.

"This isn't goodbye, Bellamy," she stated firmly. She was surprised by how sure her voice sounded. "I'll talk to them. I'll work something out."

His lips quirked into a half smile. "The Delinquents."

Her brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"The Delinquents," he repeated. "That's what everyone's calling you guys." She let out a surprised laugh and rolled her eyes. "I'm serious. As soon as your interview went live, people decided to call your alliance the Delinquents."

"Why? Because I'm a criminal."

Bellamy bumped her shoulder. "The baddest of them all," he agreed.

She glanced at him, a lightness filling her chest. Even while walking through the forest filled with death traps and people wanting to kill them, he managed to make her smile.

His smile faltered after a minute of walking. He couldn't meet her eyes. "You're going to have to go with your allies, Clarke. You can't abandon them." Finally, he glanced at her. The air was knocked from her chest. "I won't let you."

Her throat was tight. "Bellamy..."

"Clarke," he said softly. Somehow, that made her throat tighter. He stopped walking and she turned to face him. "They're a good group. Don't give that up."

"I don't plan to," she promised. "They're my friends." She took a step closer to him. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to give up you and Octavia either." She was aching to be in his arms again. She didn't know how much time they had left together and she didn't want to waste a second. "I... I really care about you two. You've been there for me more than anyone else."

He sent her a lopsided smile. "I care about you, too, princess." With that, they kept walking. Clarke tried to pretend that her heart wasn't racing. They'd been walking for a few minutes in silence before Bellamy next spoke. "So, what happened with you and Wells? The last I heard, you hated him."

She pulled a face at that. She doubted he would be satisfied with the answer 'it's complicated,' but it truly was that – _complicated._ Complicated and dangerous.

"We worked things out." He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She didn't really want to talk about it when she knew the cameras were pointed at them. If she even hinted something vague at him, the Capitol would know she told him. They would know she didn't keep her promise to be quiet. They would kill both of them. They would kill their families.

 _But she wanted him to know_. He had been a constant support back in the Capitol and he had listened to her for hours. She wanted to confide in him – to tell him all of her secrets.

Clarke walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the hug without hesitation. She craned her neck so her lips were beside his ear. She spoke so lowly that her lips had to brush against his skin for him to hear. "We worked things out. He told me the truth. It wasn't what I thought." She hoped whoever was watching thought they were merely hugging, not discussing secrets that would send them to the grave.

"He didn't do it?" His voice was low too. A shock went up her spine as his lips ghosted against her ear. She felt her cheeks flush and butterflies erupt in her stomach.

"No," she hissed out. "It was my mom." He pulled back in shock. He looked horrified. She sent him a look, begging him not to say anything. Bellamy blinked a few times and composed his expression.

Clarke took a few steps away from him and continued walking. Bellamy trailed a few inches behind her, deep in thought.

"I'm sorry." She could tell he wanted to say more, to comfort her. But she had been clear with her warnings; nobody could know that she told him. "I can't imagine what you're feeling right now."

"It's worse than I imagined," she admitted. She was struggling to keep her voice upbeat, to hide the truth behind her words.

Bellamy closed the distance between them and took hold of her hand. Just the smallest touch made her calmer. It made things seem clearer. It made her feel safe, no matter what happened. Just a simple touch made her heart race and her stomach flip around.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Clarke admitted after a beat of silence. "I wondered where you were. I wondered if you were still alive."

"I thought that too," he said. His thumb ran across the back of her hand, sending a jolt up her arm. "Octavia was dying and I had no idea what to do to save her. For the last two days, I was alone with my demons." His face was stone. "I'm glad we get a few more moments together." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I wish that we could have more."

"Wouldn't that be nice?" she sighed.

They were silent for a long moment. Then, she froze in her movements, pulling Bellamy to a stop beside her. Only feet in front of them, through a thicker bush, was a blueberry bush. Blueberries were nearly impossible to pick – they would probably take hours to get enough to feed all of them – but it was better than nothing.

"Food," she said, already pulling him towards the bush. As soon as he caught sight of what she seen, he pulled her to a stop. She glanced up at him in confusion. His face was hardened and he was scanning the forest around them. "Bellamy-"

"I'll go first," he decided. "We don't know who is around here."

She wanted to argue that she could protect herself, but she needed to be realistic. He had been training with weapons for his whole life. He skills might've been enough to survive, but his were the ones that would win a fight. She reluctantly nodded her head and dropped his hand.

She watched him walk away, her heart beating rapidly. Even as he disappeared from her sight, she couldn't calm her racing heartbeat. In fact, not seeing him made her even more nervous.

She could still feel his lips brush against her ear, and she could feel the tingle of the shock it sent up her spine. She wondered if she had the same effect on him. Every time he touched her, she felt like he left a trail of fire in his wake. Her hairs would stand up in end and she would get goose bumps.

She tried to reason it out that she reacted this strongly because she had been without human contact for a year. She hadn't been touched or held by anyone in so long, and his soft touches did something funny to her heart.

Still, he had that effect on her. He made her feel like she was burning in the best possible ways.

She thought back to what Wells said the previous night, her lips quirking up. Who would've thought that _Wells Jaha_ would be the one encouraging her to fall for Bellamy. She never would've guessed that.

 _"_ _I see the way you look at him. I see the way_ he looks at you _. Why are you holding back? Why are you trying to deny that you're head over heels for him?"_

She told him that she couldn't allow herself to fall for him. There wasn't any time for love when she had to focus on survival.

 _Iif we can't love now, when_ can _we love? Love is never worth nothing. Love is the reason we fight. Love is the reason we survive. Without love, we have nothing."_

His last words haunted her though.

 _"_ _These are our final days. Why deny ourselves the simple pleasures?"_

Why deny the simple pleasure of falling for Bellamy Blake?

"Screw it," she muttered, a surge of confidence filling her.

 _If not now, when? Live without reservation. Live without regrets._

She was falling for him. He made her feel alive and free. He made her feel safe and at home. _He was her home_. There was no denying that he held a piece of her soul already, what was stopping her from giving it completely to him?

She pushed through the bush separating her from him, her mind made up and her heart racing.

Wells was right; love was why they kept fighting. _Love was not a distraction_. _Love wasn't useless_ , even if she felt it only for a brief moment. Without love, they wouldn't have humanity.

She stepped into the small clearing. Bellamy's back was to her as he placed the knife back in his holster. She sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

Before she knew what was happening, her legs were moving on their own accord. As he heard her approaching, he turned around. They locked eyes.

"Clarke," he said, his face breaking into a smile. "What-"

"No denying the simple pleasures in life anymore," she told him.

She stood an inch away from him, just far enough away so they weren't touching. Bellamy closed the distance, wrapping his arms around her waist and stepping closer to her. Her hands automatically came up to rest against his chest. She could feel his heart beating steadily under her palm.

"I care about you, Bell. It's not logical and I know it'll only lead to more pain, but I care for you so fucking much." She curled her hands around the sleeves of his jacket. "I-"

She was abruptly cut off as her air got trapped in her throat. His head swooped towards hers, stopping only millimeters away. She could feel his breath across her face and she could nearly taste his lips on hers. They had been in this position before on the roof, when she pulled away.

 _Not this time._

She closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together. He pulled her against his body with one arm and cupped her cheek gently with his hand. Her arms wound their way around his neck and found their way into his hair. His thumb brushed against the curve of her jaw, sending chills across her whole body.

The kiss was short, but it sent her spiraling. She felt like with that one touch, she felt her reservations melt away. It was almost like she had been desperately holding on to her heart, not wanting to give any more of it to him.

 _The kiss changed that._

She cared for Bellamy, more than she should've for her own good. It wasn't any question. _Bellamy Blake was apart of her soul._

They pulled away from the kiss panting. As soon as they parted she let out a breathless laugh. She couldn't keep the smile off her face. She clung to him tightly, her fingers tightly wrapped in his jacket. His heart was racing against her palm.

 _She never wanted to let him go_. He seemed to feel the same way, since the arms that wrapped around her waist continued to hold her.

 _She had never felt more complete._

Standing there, with him in her arms, made her feel like she was home. It made her feel like someone that mattered – not just a tribute in the Games. He made her feel significant when everything in the world made her feel insignificant.

"Clarke," he mumbled. His voice was low and so full of passion, it made her heart ache. He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact. They didn't say anything for a long moment, just choosing to stand in each other's arms.

"We're going to die," she pointed out, her voice breathless. "We both can't live. You know that, right?"

"I know." He pulled back and smiled crookedly at her. "But I would rather have two minutes of this than a lifetime without you."

She crinkled her nose at him, a wide smile overtaking her face. "You're smooth."

He laughed at that. Before he stepped away from her, he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. All thought vanished from her mind. All she wanted to do was stand in his arms until the sun was setting.

Finally, she pulled away. "I'm serious, Clarke." Her knees went weak from the way he said her name. He reached up and brushed a loose piece of hair away from her face. She tried not to lean into his touch too much. "We're going to die. I'd rather spend what time I have left doing something that makes me happy, even if it causes me a little pain in the end. Wouldn't you?" She felt a smile spread across her face. That was _exactly_ how she felt.

"I would." She stepped back from him completely and swung her backpack off. "Let's get some food before Murphy bites your head off," she commented. Before she could drop to her knees in front of the bush, she turned to him one last time. "I hope you know I'm not planning on leaving you now." He looked at for like a long moment, looking like he wanted to argue.

Finally, he nodded his head. "I know. I don't plan on leaving you either."

It felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders. She wouldn't be leaving him, and he wouldn't be leaving her. They were promising to be a team for as long as possible. They were promising to stick by each other's side until they drew their last breaths.

She only hoped she wouldn't experience the pain she was so scared of; of having her heart ripped out by his death. She hoped that when he died, she was beside him.

She pushed those thoughts aside as soon as they entered her mind.

Wells' words rang in her ears; _don't deny the simple pleasures_.

Focusing too hard on the future – which was so uncertain and dark – would suck away all of those pleasures. Worrying would only take that him away from her faster.

* * *

 **WHEW! Finally a Bellarke kiss. That took a lot longer than I expected so this is my official apology for the extreme slow burn. BUT FINALLY, we have reached the point of the fic with fluff and soft Bellarke. I can't wait. The next 25 chapters or so are gonna be fun.**

 **As I mentioned on one of the more recent updates, I've been splitting some of the chapters I have pre-written, so updates can come faster. The total number of chapters has increased, but this is just an approximation for now (I'm still working on splitting future chapters).**

 **Also, let me just celebrate the fact that I'm currently writing chapter 43! I've been working a lot this week to finish pre-writing this fic soon, and I'm 7 chapters away from finishing the whole thing. Oh my goodness. I don't know where the time has gone.**

 **Thank you once again for all of the reviews. I'm honestly so touched by the support for this fic – you have no idea. I'm constantly blown away by you guys. Thank you for enjoying this fic as much as I am!**

 **The next update will still be on Tuesday! See you in a few days!**

 **Paw**


	26. Chapter 26: Gifts and Other Sweet Things

**This chapter is the shortest chapter for the fic so far, but I felt like it was a good place to cut it off. I hope you'll agree with me once you read it!**

 **Warnings: blood, gore, discussions about injuries previously mentioned in the fic, and coarse language**

 **I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 26: Gifts and Other Sweet Things**

* * *

 _Day 4 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke and Bellamy had been picking berries for an hour and a half when they heard it. First, it sounded like a distant ping, but it was growing louder every second. Bellamy took out his knife immediately as Clarke slipped the bags onto her back.

The ping was growing louder and louder, like it was getting closer to them. The leaves rustled above them, sending a bolt of adrenaline up her spin. She pulled out her sword and crouched low to the ground, her eyes scanning the tree line around them.

She leapt a foot into the air when a metal container with a parachute came crashing through the trees. As soon as she seen what it was, she felt like she was going to cry.

 _It was their first gift from sponsors._

The box landed on the ground in front of them with a faint thud, giving away the weight of it. Clarke was surprised the parachute could support the weight of something so heavy.

Clarke turned to Bellamy, her eyes wide. He locked eyes with her, a slow smile spreading across his face. She lunged at the package, her heart racing. They landed on their knees beside each other and looked at the number engraved on top.

 _2._

The package was for Bellamy. Clarke felt the smile slip off her face slightly. She hoped that it was one of her sponsors. _She hoped it was Kane_. For the four days she had been in the arena, they hadn't received one package. Not when they were starving, not when they were freezing, not when they were dehydrated. Her alliance was made of four different districts, but they hadn't received one gift.

Still, she was happy for Bellamy. She knew she wasn't the only one struggling in the Games. He was hungry and thirsty too. He had survived with Octavia with barely any food and water, plus he had gone through medical equipment faster than she'd ever seen. _All to keep her alive_.

Bellamy pulled off the lid. On the inside of the box, two large bottles of water sat, along with a dozen packages of dried meat. Clarke's eyes widened at that.

"Holy shit."

"This must've cost a fortune," he muttered.

Bellamy pulled out the card that was stuck to the underside of the lid. He scanned it briefly before his lips twitched into a smile.

"It's not just for District 2," he explained. He handed the card to Clarke.

 _Bellamy,_

 _These supplies are for your hopeful alliance. Each mentor (2, 3, 5, 6, and 8) contributed a sponsor to get this for the group._

 _The black box is for District 3. I was told they would know what to do._

 _The medicine should help. Get the medic to administer it to your sister and the boy from 5._

 _-D_

Clarke handed the note back to Bellamy. She couldn't get the smile off her face. It looked like Kane had come through. She didn't doubt that he was the one organizing this alliance between sponsors and mentors. She knew it wasn't Raven and Monty's mentor, if their comments were anything to go by.

"Your hopeful alliance?" she teased.

Bellamy shrugged, not looking phased. "Diyoza wants me to join," he responded, snorting.

A small black box was buried under the dozen packs of food. Bellamy opened it, but she wasn't entirely sure what it was. She hoped Diyoza was right and Raven would know what to do with it.

Beside the black box, a smaller metal case sat. Clarke pulled it out and opened it. Inside, two small syringes sat, as well as one small tube of a cream. She pulled out a needle and examined it. It hit her.

"It's for Octavia and Murphy," Bellamy said, his eyes scanning the letter again.

Clarke's breath got caught in her lungs when she read the label. Her mouth went dry. "This can't be..."

"What?" Bellamy peered over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"I think this might be some of the Capitol's top medicine. It speeds up healing by stimulating cell growth, plus it has antibacterial properties, if I'm reading the label right." She picked up the small container of ointment and read the ingredients printed on the side. "And this looks like it fights infection too."

"Shit. Really?"

"Really."

Bellamy looked breathless. He was staring at the medicine with an awestruck expression – one that she hadn't seen before. She guessed she looked as amazed as he did.

 _They could help their friends_. If she injected both of them with one syringe each, they would heal almost completely in under 48 hours, if the label was correct. She doubted Murphy was going to take that long and she didn't think Octavia would be completely healed at that point but it would help them, regardless. This could wake Octavia up, get her on her feet, get them moving as a group again.

Bellamy turned to Clarke and pulled her in for another kiss. This one wasn't as desperate as their first, rather, it was filled with hope and joy. She could feel him smiling against her.

She felt ecstatic, so she couldn't imagine how excited Bellamy was. He thought his sister was going to die. Now, they had a chance. _She_ had a chance.

They quickly sealed their backpacks and picked up the box of sponsor items between the both of them. They hurried their way back to the cave, too excited to speak.

Raven was waiting outside the cave when they emerged from the forest. She jogged over to them before they could get to close. Her eyes were locked on the crate.

"I thought I heard a gift," she said. "Who's it for?" She looked at the lid and cocked her eyebrow. Her excitement drained. "Oh. Congrats, Bellamy."

"It's not just for me," he said. "It's for all of us." He passed Raven the card and she scanned it quickly.

"Food, water, medicine." Clarke couldn't hide her excitement. "And a box for you and Monty."

Raven pulled out the black box and opened it. As soon as she did, her eyes widened and her cheeks puffed out.

"Monty! I'll need your help!" She turned back to Bellamy and Clarke, her expression unreadable. "It's explosives," she said. Bellamy took a step backwards from her, a weary expression on his face. "Monty and I can build a trap for anyone comes for us. Good thing too; that gift must've attracted everyone within a several mile radius."

Clarke lifted an eyebrow. "We're staying?" She tried not to get her hopes up.

Raven eyed Bellamy. He seemed to get the hint and left the two of them outside the cave. As soon as he was gone, Raven spoke. "For now. We talked while you two were gone. The cave is too good to give up. I think we can put up with two Careers for a while. As long as they stay on their side of the cave and keep their murdery fingers away from us, we won't have a problem."

Clarke was too tired to argue the details. She was just happy they were going to be staying a while longer.

In the cave, Murphy tore into the blueberries and Clarke opened the medical equipment. She uncapped the needle and made her way to Octavia, where Bellamy was already crouched. She kneeled beside the girl on the floor and felt for a pulse. It was racing.

She frowned. _What happened since she was gone?_

She pulled back the bandages and cringed. The wound looked more irritated that she remembered it being. Then again, it never looked too good to begin with.

"Octavia, it's Clarke," she said. "I'm going to inject you with medicine, okay? It'll help you." She doubted she could hear her, but she didn't want to poke her without warning. She turned back to Bellamy. He nodded.

She inserted the needle into her stomach, as close to the wound as possible. She recapped it and threw it into the medical backpack a few feet away. She turned to Bellamy, who was looking at her hopefully.

"We'll monitor her," she told him. "I don't expect it to work right away, but I'll check on her in a bit." He nodded his head. She turned to Murphy, who was still chewing on some food.

He seen her staring at him and he frowned. "What?"

"Come here." He reluctantly moved across the cave towards her. He glanced at Bellamy sourly, but didn't say anything. She unwrapped the bandages and looked at his arm. It was warm. She frowned. While she couldn't be sure, it was a sign of the beginning of an infection. "Sit."

"Listen, Clarke, I'm not some dog you can boss around." She pulled out another vial of the same medicine she had injected Octavia with. He visibly perked up. "Medicine?"

"Hold still." She uncapped the needle and injected it into his arm. He winced as she did. "That'll speed up healing, plus fight any infections. But, to be safe..." She pulled out the ointment and slathered it in his arm. She re-bandaged the cut and sent him back to eating.

Clarke did the same with Octavia. She hoped Capitol medication was as good as they said it was.

"We'll know more in a few hours, right?" Bellamy asked. Clarke nodded her head and washed her hands with some sterilizer.

"Yeah. I'll check on her throughout the night."

"What?" Wells questioned, moving to sit beside her. "I'm on watch tonight. I can just check on her." She looked at him questioningly. It wasn't that she doubted his abilities, but she hated giving him another responsibility for the night. "I'm serious. I know how the basics of wrapping wounds. I'll wake you up if I notice something wrong. If I'm already awake, there isn't a point of you wasting sleep." She looked at him for a long moment. She knew he wasn't going to relent.

Finally, she nodded. "Alright." She smiled at him. "Thank you." His grin was toothy in response.

A pack of dried meat hit her in the head and bounced into her lap. She could hear Charlotte giggling from the other side of the cave. Her lips twitched into a smile, but she forced it down, pretending to be annoyed. She spun around to face the young girl, who squeezed and ducked behind Lincoln. Both of them burst into a fit of giggles at that.

Clarke moved over to where she was sitting and let her rest her head in her lap. While Clarke had turned somber, Charlotte was still giggling every so often. It was nice to see her happy.

"We haven't spoken in a while, hey?" Clarke questioned, brushing a loose piece of Charlotte's hair away from her eyes. She shrugged nonchalantly, but Clarke could sense she was sad.

"It's okay. I've been with the others," she said, attempting to keep her voice light. "You've been busy."

Clarke felt a pang of hurt from her hurt. She told herself to love without reservations – to have no regrets, but here she was, disappointing the young girl. She had taken her under her wing, only to abandon her once they got into the arena.

"Not too busy for you," she pointed out. She had been hunting for water, gathering food, treating tributes, leading the pack, and trying to keep the peace, but that wasn't any excuse. The young girl was without her family. She only had their alliance to make her feel like she was apart of something. She only had the alliance to make her feel safe and at home. Clarke felt like she was letting her down. "I'm sorry I've been so distracted." Charlotte shrugged. "Tomorrow. You and me. We'll do something fun. How does that sound?" Her face lit up in a smile. "Good."

Clarke glanced up from the young girl, looking across the cave. Bellamy sat beside Octavia, a silly smile on his face. She felt one spread across her face too as she remembered the feel of his lips against hers.

 _She wanted to kiss him over and over again._

He made her feel happier than she had in a long time – more free, more true to herself. When he kissed her, it was like she was a normal teenager, not a sacrifice for the Capitol.

She looked away from him, trying her best to focus on Charlotte in her lap. The young girl was talking about a joke Murphy told her today – something about sticks and crossing a desert. She didn't get it, but Charlotte found it absolutely hilarious.

She seemed to be growing close with Murphy now, thankfully. She was always friends with Lincoln and her, and she warmed up to Raven and Monty quickly. She was reluctant with Murphy and Wells, seeing they both joined the alliance late. She didn't trust them and Clarke didn't blame her.

She seemed to have a break through with Murphy today though, if the way she was laughing was anything to go by. Clarke only hoped she would have that same break through with Wells sometime soon.

The rest of the day, she couldn't help but keep glancing at Bellamy. She couldn't get the memory of their kiss out of her mind. _She wasn't complaining._

* * *

It was hours later when Wells came to sit next to her. She lifted her eyebrows in question when she realized how excited he looked.

"What's up?" she turned to face him more and he moved closer to her. It felt like they were eight years old again and about to share the latest gossip from school. It almost made her laugh.

"Do you know what day it is?" Wells asked.

Clarke shrugged. "It's the fourth day in the arena." He beamed a little more at that. "Why?"

"You don't know?"

 _Now, she was confused._ "I don't know what?" Wells pulled a pack of matches out from behind his back, a coy smile on her lips. "What are you doing?"

He pulled a match out a lit it. As he did, he caught Raven's eye from across the cave and nodded.

Then, the two of them were singing.

" _Happy birthday, to you. Happy birthday, to you."_ They carried on singing, leaving Clarke at a loss for words. As they progressed through the song, Monty joined in, and then Charlotte, and Bellamy, and Lincoln. She could've sworn Murphy even offered a few words towards the song, but he denied it later, when she asked.

When they finished singing, Wells moved the burning match closer towards her face. "Make a wish." He grimaced. "Before the match decides to burn my fingers."

Clarke snorted at that, but complied. She made a quick wish in her head before blowing out the small fire. She didn't have to think of what to wish for; for the first year of her life, it was easy to decide.

 _Please keep my allies safe._

Wells tossed the burned piece of wood on top of the match box before he pulled her into a hug. She let out a breathless laugh and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I didn't know," she told him. She pulled back. "What… Has it really been that long since we left home?"

"Eleven days today," he told her. "Which means, you're officially 18. Congrats, Clarke, you're an adult."

"It's not all it's chalked up to be," Raven promised her. As soon as Clarke pulled out of Wells' arms, Raven was hugging her. "Happy birthday."

Really, she must've lost count of the days somewhere. How was it eleven days since she last seen her mother? Did she even know it was only eleven days until her birthday when she left home? She blamed it on the fact that she was without a calendar for so long; she must've lost a few days somewhere in the last year.

Bellamy was next to pull her into a hug. As soon as his head was beside her ear, he spoke. "Happy birthday, princess."

Happy birthday, indeed.

* * *

The anthem had already played and no faces appeared in the sky. That meant that no tributes died on the fourth day of the Games, either. _That was two days in a row without a death_. It was worrisome for Clarke.

It was pitch black outside; the moon was covered by the clouds. She wasn't scared of the dark usually, but she felt like there was a chill climbing up her spine. It didn't help that it was drizzling lightly outside. The rain, paired with the chilly nights and the darkness made for an uncomfortable night.

Clarke pulled back the bandages on Murphy's arm. Wells stood behind her, shining Bellamy's flashlight on the wound.

"Oh my gods…"

She felt her jaw drop open. While it was a gagged cut just hours before, it was now almost completely healed. It wasn't bleeding anymore. It was dry and healthy looking. While it was not completely healed yet, she couldn't believe the progress.

"That's not something you want to hear your doctor say," Murphy joked. He turned his head and looked at where the arrow hit. His eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"It looks like the medicine is working," Clarke stated the obvious.

Murphy rolled his eyes at her, but he couldn't hide his smirk. "You don't say."

"I'm going to put more of the ointment on. It's not completely closed yet, so there's still risk of infection."

She slathered the white cream on his arm as gently as possible. Still, he pulled faces. Wells snorted and Murphy smacked him with his uninjured arm.

"Hey. You owe me. I got shot for your princess."

"More like Bellamy's princess," Raven teased from across the cave. Clarke's eyes widened and her head snapped up. Her friend sent her a saucy wink. It sent Charlotte into a fit of giggles.

Clarke's skin was burning from her chest to the tips of her ears. She refused to look at Bellamy. Just seeing him would make her blush deeper, which would only provide teasing material for the rest of the alliance. She turned back to Murphy and leaned closer to his wound, moving her hair so it blocked her face.

"Done."

She pulled away from him as quickly as possible. He was smirking at her, like he was dying to tell a joke. She jokingly thought that he must've grown up in the last few day and a half – the Murphy she knew wouldn't have held back any joke.

Still blushing, she made her way to Octavia. She glanced up at Bellamy through the veil of her hair. To her relief, he seemed to be blushing too. It was hard to tell in the shitty lighting of the cave.

She did the same to Octavia as she did to Murphy. She pulled back the bandages, slathered on some of the infection fighting cream, and covered the wounds back up. She could see significant improvement in her too. The wound in her side wasn't as open as it had been and her flesh wasn't as angry red as it once was. Her face seemed to be relaxed more and her shoulders weren't as tense. She wasn't in nearly as much pain as she had been only hours before.

As she finished wrapping her torso, Bellamy caught her hand. It was just for a brief moment, but it didn't stop the zap of electricity to flow through her. All she wanted was to be held by him for hours, to be safe in his arms. She locked eyes with him and smiled.

"Thanks, Clarke."

"I would do my best to save Octavia a thousand times over," she replied. He squeezed her hand and released it.

"Talk to you tomorrow." She nodded her head and tried to get the silly smile off her face.

"Have a good night."

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Clarke didn't want to be the one to move to kiss him – not when he was in front of people he wasn't comfortable with. Just when she was going to move to her spot on the opposite side of the cave, Bellamy surged forward and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. It made her heart melt, it was so soft. When he pulled back, she was smiling even wider.

"Goodnight."

She walked to the other side of the cave, carefully ignoring the stares of her alliance members. She knew they would have a bunch of questions and jokes to make, but she didn't have the energy to answer them. The past four days had exhausted her; all of the running, hiding, hunting. She hadn't been able to sleep good ever since they got to the arena – who could?

But, for the first time since they arrived in the ruined city, Clarke fell asleep with only hope and peace on her mind.

* * *

She jolted awake from a scream. Her blood ran cold.

 _Something was wrong._

* * *

 **Heh. I love cliff hangers.**

 **A warning while I have you all – a warning for chapter 27. The next chapter includes more violence and blood than previous chapters of the fic. Due to this reason, I've decided to increase the warning of this fic to M for mature when I post the next chapter.**

 **As promised, I will do my best to keep the level of violence equivalent to the level of violence shown in the show/movies related to these fandoms. The change in warning is just a precaution. If you have any concerns, please feel free to reach out to me on social media or in the comments!**

 **Social media:**

 **Twitter: Pawprinter1**

 **Tumblr: pawprinterfanfic**

 **Also, we never got to see Clarke celebrate her birthday on the show so far, so I totally threw this in because I wanted to. It made sense with the timeline I established, so it was an opportunity meant to be haha. Which means, Clarke is now 18. I won't repost the list of tributes and their ages, since she's the only one that changes.**

 **Below is a list of tributes currently alive, as of this chapter. No deaths have occurred since the last time this list was posted (back in chapter 22), which explains the lack of bolded characters. This is just a reminder of who is still around.**  
District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Male: Wells  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 8 Female: Charlotte  
District 9 Male: Ilian  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thank you for reading! If you have any guesses over what's happening at the end of this chapter, let me know in the reviews! If you guess correctly, I'll be extremely impressed. And I'll give you a virtual high five.**

 **Since I left this chapter on a cliff hanger, I will be posting an update this Friday! See you then!**

 **Paw**


	27. Chapter 27: Together

**A friendly reminder that the rating of this fic has increased to M for mature! I will try my best to limit the level of violence and gore to those of canon-typical levels, but I increased the rating just in case.**

 **Additional warnings (spoilers): blood, violence, character death, mentions of throwing up/getting sick, mentions of needles, angst**

 **Quick note: this chapter takes place immediately after the end of last chapter. Last chapter was set during day 4 in the arena, but ended in day 5 (I never said specifically, but I felt like there wasn't a great place to put that). So, just to clarify, this chapter takes place on day 5.**

 **Thank you so much for reading and enjoying.**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 27: Together**

* * *

 _Day 5 in the arena_

* * *

" _RUN_!"

Clarke was jolted awake by the sound of a canon. As soon as she was pulled from sleep, she was frozen in fear and her heart was racing. She could hear people shouting orders and the roar of a fire nearby.

Raven was gripping her hand tightly, trying to pull her to her feet. She could barely make out the words, but she could tell she was scared. Her expression was frantic and her eyes were wide. "Go!" Raven was yelling something else at her, but she couldn't understand it. All she could hear was the roar of a fire outside and shouts of her allies. "We have to go!" Clarke read Raven's lips that time.

While it had only been seconds since she woke up, it felt like it was a lifetime. While it had only been hours since she fell asleep, her world had changed.

She rolled onto her knees as Raven left her side. Clarke quickly took in the scene around her; she could see a fire roaring just outside of the cave entrance and smoke was billowing in. Her allies were scattered around the cave, oblivious to her waking.

Lincoln was the first to notice her. He in the corner of the cave, shoving handfuls of died meat into his backpack. She couldn't read his expression, but he was yelling something out. Her ears were ringing, but she didn't know why.

He looked up at her and locked eyes. "I'm sorry." She didn't doubt that was what he said, even if she couldn't hear him. Her heart was racing.

 _What happened?_ She felt disoriented and confused and _oh god why were there so many shouts._

She jumped up from where she crouched and surveyed the scene. Raven was crouched at the mouth of the cave with Monty at her side. They both held weapons and were frantically gesturing beyond the flames.

Bellamy was beside Octavia, trying to tie the thermal blanket around her body. She was still unconscious as he worked, completely oblivious to the panic surrounding them. He must've thrown a damp piece edge of the fabric over her, blocking the smoke that surrounded them.

Murphy threw a half eaten pack of crackers at her, grabbing her attention. "Pack up!" he ordered. She only blinked at him, her mind reeling from everything around her. He was moved to her side, blocking the far corner of the cave from her when she didn't move. "Go!"

Her mouth was dry and her throat felt tight. She blamed it on the smoke, but she knew it was from the intense bout of worry that hit her.

"Where's Charlotte? Where's Wells!?"

 _Where were they?_ She counted seven of them around the cave – there were supposed to be nine. Wells better not have left the cave, getting lost in the fire. _He better not have left the cave._

Murphy's face darkened. He reached forward and grasped her bare forearm. She was shocked by how cold and clammy his fingers were. He looked sick. "Charlotte's gone. She did this," he growled.

Clarke's world shattered with those words. _What?_ Charlotte did this? Charlotte – the little girl, so harmless, so innocent? Charlotte – the girl she took under her wing, the girl she vowed to protect against anything that would harm her?

She did this?

Icy hands gripped her stomach as she realized Murphy wasn't telling her something. He was covered in blood – fresh blood – and he was trying to usher her towards where Bellamy and Octavia were. _He was blocking her from seeing something._

No. No, please, no.

Her heart dropped to her stomach and hurt bloomed across her body. Murphy couldn't even look her in the eyes. She stumbled to the side, pushing Murphy out of the way. Her eyes landed on a body slumped against the corner of the cave, eyes unseeing.

Upon seeing him, she felt her knees go weak and her head spin. Her throat was impossibly tight, and she felt pain radiating up her wrists and through her arms.

Murphy caught her elbow before she hit the ground, helping her stay steady. She couldn't make a sound or tear her eyes away from him. Crushing pain hit her and she knew she was close to throwing up.

 _It was him._

 _Wells._

 _Dead._

His throat was slit and fresh blood spilled down his neck. His arms were limp by his sides and his eyes were staring emptily at the ceiling of the cave. His knife still was attached to his holster, proving to her that he trusted whoever did this.

 _He was dead. He was murdered._

She let out a broken sob. She felt her knees completely go out from under her. Murphy pulled her tighter to his chest, keeping her upright.

"I'm sorry, Clarke, but we have to move."

Her bottom lip trembled as she stared at her best friend's dead body. She knew something else was wrong, by the way everyone was shouting around her. She didn't know where Charlotte was, she didn't know anything.

But she didn't care. In that moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. She felt her whole world crumbling around her. _That was Wells._

Her best friend. The one person she knew she could trust. The one person that was always beside her, supporting her, and encouraging her.

 _It was Wells._ And now he was dead.

She was faintly aware of Raven and Monty yelling and Lincoln responding. She couldn't understand a word they were saying, not even if she tried. Bellamy was completely silent as he worked away on Octavia.

Murphy's fingers tightened around her bicep, bringing her back. "Clarke, look at me." She peeled her gaze away from Wells, looking up to him. His face was stony. "If the Careers get past the flames, we're all dead. Okay? We have to go."

She felt every emotion drain from her body as she absorbed his words.

"Careers?" Clarke's voice sounded hallow, even to her. For the first time since she woke up, she took a look at Murphy; he had his knife in his hand and his backpack strapped on. "Murphy, what's going on? The Careers?"

"Charlotte killed Wells." Her heart stung. "She took off and set off the trap when she was leaving. The Careers showed up – I don't know how they knew where we were." He glanced out the cave. He turned back to her, even more panicked than before. "We gotta go. The flames are keeping a barrier between us and the Careers, but they're also trapping us inside. They're working on making a path out, but that means the Careers will be let in." He dropped his hold and Clarke was already moving towards Monty. "We gotta move. _Now_!"

She tried to push Wells out of her head as she raced across the cave, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear Monty, Raven and Murphy yelling back and forth at the mouth of the cave, but she tuned it out. She had to focus on packing their supplies and getting her allies out.

Her heart fell.

 _The remaining of her allies out._

She started packing the medical supplies away. Hot tears streamed down her face, making her vision swim. Her heart was breaking over and over again _. Wells was dead._

She had a billion regrets running through her mind; regrets over hating him for the last year, regrets over treating him so poorly, regrets that he volunteered for the Games and she did nothing to stop it.

 _And now he was dead._

In part, it was because of her.

The only reason he was in the Games was to protect her. He only came to explain what happened because he thought she deserved the truth.

 _If she hadn't blamed him for what happened, he would still be alive._

She shoved the gauze into her backpack with more force than she needed. She still had the bandages and the sterilized to pack, but her hands were shaking so much that she could barely move. _Too much to do._

 _Focus. Foucs._

An arrow bounced off the wall of the cave just above Clarke's head. She whipped her head around and that was when she saw them.

Ontari, Cage, Roan and Luna were standing just beyond the flames. She felt her heart stop at seeing them; they were waiting for them. _They were going to kill her and everyone she had left to care about._

Most surprisingly was the fifth person standing beyond the flames. Clarke swore under her breath; she couldn't remember their name. All she knew was that he was the boy from District 9. Surprisingly, the Careers let him join their pack. She would love to live long enough to find out how that happened.

The flames were dying out quickly. They had mere seconds until the Careers would be inside their cave. They couldn't let that happen – there would be no escape and nowhere to run if they were cornered.

Even as it stood now, they had no bargaining chips and no escape. All they had were their weapons, but she knew that wasn't enough. Even with Bellamy and Lincoln standing beside them, they couldn't take the five tributes. She knew that her skills, if she could even call them that, weren't going to be enough to save anyone.

 _She couldn't save Wells._ Now, she was going to fail the rest of her alliance.

"Raven! Do we have a plan?" Clarke called over her shoulder. Raven shook her head and swore. "Shit. Monty?"

She never heard a response from him. Something exploded outside, sending the three tributes at the mouth of the cave diving for cover. Monty landed on top of Raven, while Murphy went skidding back a few feet.

They were out of time. Clarke knew that if the Careers wanted to, they could jump through the ring of fire now. She hoped they were stupid enough to keep waiting until the fire was completely out. At least they would be given a few more minutes to plan.

Bellamy swore loudly. He picked up the sword beside him and moved to the mouth of the cave. Clarke lunged at him grabbing his sleeve before he stepped outside. They locked eyes. Her heart was racing wildly in her chest. His face was stone once again.

"Get them out!" he told her. His eyes swooped to where Octavia lay on the ground. "All of them!"

Clarke's heart stopped. He was planning on facing the Careers alone. _He was going to die._

"Don't," she cried, pulling his sleeve. "You promised you wouldn't leave me! We agreed we were staying together!"

He looked pained as she said those words. Her heart felt like it was ripping in two. _Please don't leave me._

"You'll be okay," he told her. His eyes left hers, glancing out at the Careers beyond the fire. "Do it." She didn't move. "Now!"

He went surging forwarding, disappearing from the cave. She felt like she was going to throw up. _She couldn't lose him too._

No, this wasn't happening. _He promised her, didn't he?_ Only hours ago, they agreed to stay together. Only hours ago, she had plans to stay with him until their last breaths.

She wasn't going to let him die alone.

"Lincoln!" Clarke called. He was by her side in seconds, his backpack on his shoulders and his sword drawn. "Carry Octavia." She didn't wait for a response. "Raven, are you okay?"

"I- I can't run." She was climbing up from the floor with Monty's assistance. Her lips were stretched thin and her jaw locked. "Fuck." She threw her bag to the ground in frustration.

"Raven-"

"I'm mad at myself, okay? I can't keep up if we're going to run, and I sure as hell am not going to ask anyone to put themselves at risk to help me." She bent down to pick up her bag, letting out a groan of pain as she did.

Murphy held his hand out to her and she took it, using it to steady herself as she stood back up. "Reyes, look at me." He gripped her shoulder and she turned to look at him, frustrated tears in her eyes. "Your disability isn't your fault and it is _our_ choice to help you. _It's my choice._ " Her chin was lifted in defiance. "You're a fucking genius and you're going to be the one to keep us all alive. And you're important to us – _to me_. Of course I'm going to help you."

"I'm just so mad," she hissed.

"If there's anyone here who can do this, it's you." She smiled thinly at him and moved her arm around his shoulders.

"Hell yes." Her jaw was locked in determination.

There wasn't any more time to discuss; they had to get out of there and _she had to get to Bellamy._

Clarke swung the backpack around her shoulders and glanced around. Lincoln had Octavia in his arms, cradled against his chest, as well as a backpack around his shoulders.

"We have to go," Monty said, his voice more urgent than before.

Clarke was overwhelmed. Wells was dead. Charlotte was a murderer. They were about to be consumed by fire. The Careers were waiting for them.

She scooped up the backpacks around the cave and tossed them to Murphy, Raven and Monty. She made eye contact with Murphy as she slid off her bag and tossed it to him. He looked horrified.

"Get them out of here."

"Clarke!"

"No," she snapped. "Bellamy can't hold them off by himself; not long enough for all of you to get out of here safely. I'll help him." She knew what this meant. _She was going to die._ "As soon as the fire dies, run like hell." This was goodbye. She couldn't tell her alliance this – they wouldn't let her go if they knew her true intentions. So, she lied. "I'll be right behind you."

"You're kidding me!" Murphy took a step in her direction, his eyes narrowed. "What the hell, Griffin. You-"

She lifted her sword from the ground and locked eyes with Murphy. His voice died in his throat.

"We're survivors. You said it yourself." His face was expressionless. " _Survive_."

 _They were out of time._

Murphy knew it. She knew it. They all knew it, but he was the only one willing to do _anything_ and _everything_ to ensure their survive. She knew she could rely on him to pull her friends away. She wouldn't allow any of them to die; not when she could sacrifice herself and prevent that.

Bellamy yelled a warning out. The flames were seconds away from dying out.

She bolted out of the cave, her sword poised. Behind her, she could hear Murphy encouraging the group to run. She had to trust he would get them to safety. She had to pour all of her focus into the fight that was seconds away from happening.

She knew she wasn't trained well, and she knew that she didn't exactly have skills with fighting, but she was sure as hell going to try. _She had to_.

She stepped up beside Bellamy, not daring to speak. It was almost like all of her words got sucked out of her by being so close to a roaring fire. She knew five people who wanted to kill her were just beyond the flames. She was petrified.

"What the hell, Clarke!?" Bellamy snapped. His eyes were wild and he was sweating profusely from the heat. His hair was wet and pushed away from his eyes. It was terrifying to see them reflecting the dancing flames.

"I'm with you."

She couldn't look at him. She knew if she did, she would lose her nerve. She knew that if she lost her focus, this would be for nothing. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on the silhouette of a Career who were pacing outside the ring of fire.

Bellamy turned to her and reached to touch her upper arm. She met his eyes and felt her breath catch in her throat.

 _This was goodbye._

"We had our two minutes that I wanted," he said, his voice hoarse. It was almost painful to recall their conversation from earlier that day – the one right after their kiss. She had warned him they both couldn't live – that one of them would die. She warned herself that this would happen – that she would have to lose him sometime. _That didn't stop the pain._ "Go."

"Octavia is safe," she promised him. He didn't look swayed. "They won't have enough time. This is the only option."

"Clarke-"

"We're doing this together." She gripped his hand with hers. " _Together,_ Bellamy _._ " He looked at her for a long time. Finally, a thin smile spread on his face.

"Together."

 _Clarke was almost okay with dying, in a strange way._

It was almost a year ago when she knew her death by the Capitol's hand was inevitable. She knew weeks ago that she was going to be dying in the Hunger Games. She knew as soon as she stepped on that platform only a few days ago that the arena was going to be the last place she seen.

Clarke wanted to live. _She did._ She wanted to live a normal life, finish her education, experience life. _She really, really did._

She would give that up all over again in an instant if it meant she tried to do the right thing. _If she tried to tell Panem about District 13._

And she would make this decision over and over again if it meant her friends would get away. If it meant they wouldn't have to suffer. If it meant one of them could go onto win the Games.

Things happened all at once only seconds later. The fire went out from around the cave as the ignition fluid from Raven's trap ran out. As soon as the flames were gone, Ontari screamed something out and war broke out.

The District 9 tribute sprinted first, his sword drawn and pure anger on his face. Cage and Luna hung back as Roan and Ontari charged forward, only steps behind him.

Clarke crouched slightly and planted her feet. She couldn't feel her body, she was so scared. Her hand barely stayed clenched around the handle of her sword, both from her palms sweating and also from shaking so bad.

She knew Bellamy would most likely take Ontari and Roan, which left the male from District 9 to her. She remembered him from the reaping – she remembered how determined and strong he looked. _That was nothing compared to when he was charging at her._

He looked like he was going to be unmovable. Each step was firm on the ground – his movements were sure and unwavering. He didn't have an injury she could use to her advantage, which made her swear.

He was bigger than her, clearly faster than her, and was more trained than her. He had the advantage by using a spear – she wouldn't be able to get close to him if he was able to swing it like she seen past tributes.

Bellamy went charging forward, moving to intercept Ontari and Roan. Clarke stepped to the side as soon as District 9 swung his spear in her direction.

He was fast. _Really fast._ His was smaller than both Cage and Roan, but he made up for that with his speed and agility. She hadn't fought anyone like this before.

 _Think. Think._

She moved out of the way of the tip of his spear again, swinging her sword to meet the shaft and keep it away from her neck. She managed to deflect it, but wasn't quick enough to move away when it nicked her arm. It wasn't deep – barely a scratch.

She could dance around him – he would be able to get under her defenses easily. She couldn't stand there and let him attack her; she couldn't defend herself without moving away. _She couldn't do nothing._

Without thinking, she charged at him. She batted his spear away from her head with the flat edge of her sword, cringing as she felt the vibrations move through her body.

 _It was a mistake._

She didn't see the knife until it caught the moonlight. At that point, she knew she was too late. She was inside his defenses – yes – but she was also trapped there, now. If she kept charging him, he had a knife. If she back off, he had a spear.

 _Shit._

Clarke stepped to the side and tripped over her feet as he started to advance on her.

Her thoughts disappeared. Everything Bellamy tried to teach her vanished.

 _She was going to die._

Before she could catch herself on anything, she was knocked to the ground with something falling on top of her. Her shoulder hit the ground roughly, which sent a shock of pain up through her. All the air got knocked from her lungs and her eyes flew open.

A loud boom sounded somewhere off in the arena.

 _A canon._

Her heart froze. _Please don't be Bellamy. Please don't be Bellamy._

Her face was pressed into the grass, with something heavy laying on top of her. She wasn't stupid – she knew it was a body. Her heart was racing, imagining it to be Bellamy's.

 _Please don't be dead._

She turned around roughly on the ground, rustling the body on top of her.

 _Then she felt it._

She could feel a warm liquid seeping across her back and now her chest, drenching her underneath it. A knife was protruding from District 9's neck, which killed him instantly.

Clarke realized with a start that she was soaked in his blood. She pushed the body off of her and pushed backwards, pulling herself away from him. Her heart was racing. She felt sick.

 _Bellamy._

Clarke whipped her head around, catching sight of him as he swung his sword to meet Roan's. Ontari was already racing back to where Cage and Luna stood, leaving the two men to fight. A knife flew from the mouth of the cave, lodging itself in Roan's leg.

Bellamy and Roan seemed to be surprised by this. Roan stumbled back from Bellamy and raised his sword just in time to block a blow. The Career took off as soon as Bellamy pulled back, racing towards the remaining members of the Career pack.

Clarke glanced to the cave, where the knife came from. Octavia was standing in the mouth of the cave, one hand pressed over her wound, blood flowing from between her fingers.

 _Holy shit, it was Octavia._

It was clear that her healing wound had reopened from the effort of standing up and throwing knives, sending blood spilling through her fingers and splattering onto the grass below. She was swaying on her feet and looked looked like she was ready to faint any second.

She lifted her hand again and threw another knife at Ontari, who dodged easily. She snarled and retreated into the woods, the three Careers following.

As soon as their backs were turned, her legs gave out from under her and she tumbled to the ground.

Clarke gasped for breath and glanced at the body that landed on her. District 9 was feet away from her, his blood staining the grass red. Blood was splashed across the front of her shirt and up her neck. She felt like she was going to throw up.

Clarke rolled onto all fours, gasping and shuddering. The air was thick with smoke, stinging her eyes and burning her lungs. She still felt the heat ghosting along her skin from the roaring fire. Tears pricked her eyes.

 _Wells was dead._

She could clearly see his slashed throat when she closed her eyes. She doubted that imagine would ever leave her mind. The blood trickled freely from his neck, soaking the front of his tribute uniform. She could still see his eyes, open and haunted. His mouth was open too, like he was on the verge of a scream.

Clarke turned and promptly threw up into the grass. It burnt her throat due to how dehydrated she was. Her eyes were burning – she didn't know if it was from smoke or tears or what.

 _She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think._

But they weren't done yet – they weren't safe yet. Lincoln had Octavia in his arms again and had left the safety of the cave. Murphy and Raven followed them out, their arms still supporting each other, and Monty followed.

She didn't even realize he was beside her, but Bellamy grabbed her around her middle and hauled her to her feet. She struggled to regain her balance. The world tilted sideways before her.

 _Wells was dead._

 _She was soaked in blood from a dead man._

 _Wells was dead._

 _Charlotte was gone._

She could feel the blood spreading down the front of her shirt, from District 9, from herself, from Bellamy – she didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore.

 _Wells was dead._

Her chest felt like it was going to cave in. It felt like her heart was going to turn to dust. It felt like every bone in her body had shattered.

Bellamy's arm around her was the only thing keeping her from falling over. He pulled her along as they sprinted away from the cave. She focused on the warmth it gave her and how grounded she felt with him. She focused on what _life_ felt like, not death.

Bellamy glanced down at her, examining her for any injuries. She could barely look at him. His own face was speared in blood, most likely getting there somehow because of her.

 _It was a reminder that a man was dead._

She was reminded of the practice mannequins from the training centre. _Back before they were murders_. (It felt like a lifetime ago.) She didn't think she would ever look back on those memories fondly, but they were a bright spot compared to her time in the arena.

She thought of when he pulled her to a hallway after she had just finished her assessment, concerned about how she reacted around the Careers earlier. She felt his warmth only feet away from her and it left her feeling breathless.

They were both soaked in fake blood. They had chuckled about it at the time. They both looked ridiculous and they were safe – it was okay to laugh. Their hair was plastered to their faces and their clothes stained from where the liquid sprayed out at them.

They looked like mirror images of that day. _Except, this wasn't fake_. This was from a real person. The male from District 9.

 _She didn't even know his name._

They ran for an hour straight without slowing down. She didn't feel the stitch in her side and she barely noticed how her head pounded. Her throat was raw from the smoke. _She really needed water._

While they ran, Bellamy let her out of his arms, choosing to guide her with his hand instead. While all she wanted to do was stay wrapped in his arms, she knew this was easier to run with. Besides, as long as she had something to ground her, she would be okay.

Finally, Lincoln slowed to a stop, panting heavily. As soon as they slowed, Raven leaned onto a tree heavily, letting out a strangled grunt. Monty threw up behind a tree – she didn't know if it was from the smoke, from watching a man die, or from the fact the Bellamy and Clarke were covered in blood. _She wanted to join him._

Bellamy had dropped her hand and jogged over to where Lincoln placed his sister on the ground. Her face was twisted in pain and her forehead was beaded in sweat. She clutched her stomach, her shirt covered in blood. Her hand was covered with crusted blood, looking like she was a child that had gotten too ambitious with the finger pain.

"O," Bellamy's voice was frantic. "Are you okay?"

"I just saved your ass," she grunted. "I should be asking the questions here." She let out a labored laugh. He didn't return it. He couldn't even smile.

"We can't stop for long," Murphy warned, already glancing around wearily. "They could be following us."

Bellamy ignored him. He pulled Octavia's hand away from her wound to examine her. "Octavia, you're hurt. Don't try to make jokes." She smiled weakly at him. It looked like she was barely hanging onto consciousness. He turned to Clarke, panicked. "Clarke, she's hurt. What- What do we do?"

"Hey, Clarke," she mumbled. Octavia looked exhausted and her skin looked grey. "I knew my brother couldn't stay away from you." Even as she bled, she had a sense of humor.

Clarke dropped to her knees in front of her and lifted her shirt. The wound was open again, but not nearly as bad as it once was. It looked fairly superficial – it didn't go as deep into her body like her original wound. The injection from the previous day has mended the internal damage and had fixed the burn on the exterior of the wind, only leaving angry red marks behind.

Only now that Octavia has moved and exerted herself, part of the wound ripped back open.

 _She could fix this._ It wasn't like her last injury, where she couldn't do anything except cauterize it and hope it healed. This cut now only looked like a shallow slash from a sword, not a deep stab. She could work with this. She'd done a similar procedure before with the mannequin at the tribute centre.

"I can fix it," Clarke determined. She began rolling up her sleeves, her mind already slipping back into her medic mode. "I'll need the floss and the needle. Wells-"

His name died in her throat. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She couldn't keep herself upright.

The world spun before her and her hand shot out to steady herself on the ground below her. Her heart felt like it was shattered. She could feel the heartbreak radiating through her, moving through her bones and into her stomach.

 _Wells was dead._

Octavia was looking at her, clearly confused. Clarke reached up shakily and brushed the tears away from her face. _When did she start crying?_ Did she ever stop crying? She doubted it.

Bellamy placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to sooth her. While it didn't take away her pain, it was nice to have the comfort of someone she cared about so much. She leaned into his touch, reaching up to grasp his wrist with her fingers.

The weight of what happened hit her in that moment, crouched over Octavia. She felt like she was drowning over and over again. Her sorrow hit her in waves like the tide did in a hurricane. She forced her eyes open and locked onto a leaf only a few feet away.

 _In and out. In and out._

Breathing felt impossible in that moment.

"Octavia, tie yourself up," Raven ordered, taking charge of the situation. "Clarke can't work in this light."

Raven dropped to the ground beside Octavia, swallowing another moan of pain. The two girls hadn't officially met yet, but there wasn't any time for introductions.

The youngest Blake watched Raven wearily as she slung off her jacket and wrapped it around her waist. She worked on stopped the blood flow so they could continue to move.

"We have to find shelter and we have to keep moving. If we could run for an hour, so could the Careers." Monty shifted uneasily. "And so could Charlotte."

That send another wave of pain crashing through Clarke. Her finger dug painfully into her shoulder as she tried to grasp Bellamy. Almost like he knew what she was thinking, he shifted closer to her, bringing her to his side.

Lincoln picked up Octavia as soon as Raven finished wrapping her wound. The girl smirked at him drowsily, clearly seconds away from passing out.

"You're not my brother..." Then, her head lulled forward and she passed out on his shoulder. He shifted her around awkwardly, trying to get a better hold on her.

Once she was more comfortable, he nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

 **RIP WELLS. Ugh he's done so dirty on the show and I did him so dirty here. HE DESERVES BETTER. I tried to make him live longer than the show, and to explore the relationship he has with Clarke a little more, so I hope you enjoyed that aspect.**

 **Also, RIP ILIAN. I never noticed until I was editing this chapter that Octavia is the one to kill him, which makes zero sense when comparing to canon. You'll have to excuse that weird situation. Clearly, I wasn't thinking when I wrote this chapter.**

 **A HUGE thank you goes out to Hannah (daddyrheelG on Twitter) for her help with this chapter. She pre-read a section for me, as well as helped me write the scene where Raven is discussing her disability. Hannah is a queen – thank you so much for all of your help.**

 **Below is the list of tributes currently alive. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter. If they died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. And if you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
 **District 6 Male: Wells** **  
**District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 8 Female: Charlotte  
 **District 9 Male: Ilian** **  
**District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thank you for reading. The next chapter will be up on Tuesday.**

 **Paw**


	28. Chapter 28: Fallout

**Warning: this chapter is filled with angst, mentions of character death, violence, gore, and throwing up/getting sick.**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 28: Fallout**

* * *

 _Day 5 in the arena_

* * *

They ran for the rest of the night. The rain had let up, but Clarke could feel the dew from the forest ground splash up to hit her shins with every step.

The clouds covered the moon, making it nearly impossible to run without stumbling over something. She didn't know how long they had been running when she stumbled over a hidden root, flying forward. Luckily, Bellamy hadn't let go of her since the Careers attacked, and he was able to pull her up to steady her.

After the second hour of running, Lincoln transferred Octavia to Monty. It was on hour three when she was passed to Bellamy, who managed to carry her for two hours.

After that, Clarke offered to take her, but her shoulder burst into pain when she tried to take her. Instead, Murphy offered to carry her for a bit, which was a surprise. Raven was assisted by Lincoln as Murphy ran with Octavia.

While he didn't originally like the Blakes, it was hard not to after Bellamy was willing to sacrifice his life for the alliance. It was hard not to after Octavia managed to save everyone. She hoped this put an end to the stupid feud between them.

The darkness gave way to light after running for several hours. Just as the first rays of sunlight hit the sky, Raven gasped and pointed to the tops of the trees. As Clarke discovered, she wasn't pointing _to_ the trees, but past them.

 _The city._

The tops of the skyscrapers were visible just above the tree line. As they ran further, they could see more and more of the city.

As they did, Clarke's heart grew heavier. This was where the bloodbath took place. This was where she first seen dead bodies. This was where blood first splattered across her, from where Murphy was shot. This was where she helped kill a girl.

 _This was the beginning of the end of her time with Wells._

She tried to push him out of her mind. She'd managed to keep her mind away from him over the last few hours, and she was thankful for that. She knew that as soon as she began processing what happened, she would break like she had never broken before.

She'd experienced anguish when her father died, yes, but this was different. When he died, she had anger to drive her further. She knew he chose the path that he did, even though death was inevitable. She was distracted then; she had to find a way to get out and survive. She had to keep living in his memory.

 _Now though._

Now, she had nothing. She had endless days of pain and suffering ahead of her. She had memories that haunted her; memories or moments that she hated him; memories of times when she tried to ignore him; memories of times she wished she told him how much he meant to her.

Or, maybe she felt exactly the same way as she did now when he dad died. She remembered reading once that the mind tended to forget traumatic memories. The mind dulled the memory of pain to protect itself.

 _Maybe she just didn't truly remember the amount of pain she had been in when her father died._

She didn't want that pain. She didn't need that pain.

She focused on running. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, of pushing forward, of surviving. She focused on the city that they were quickly approaching, trying anything to keep herself distracted.

She never really took notice of the city when they were first there. The bloodbath felt like a lifetime ago. In a strange way, it also felt like it was only hours ago. She doubted all of the screaming of dying children – children she couldn't help – would ever leave her.

Some of the buildings towered into the sky, reaching so high that she couldn't imagine how many stairs it would take to climb to the top. Some of the buildings were completely toppled over, fallen over from something unimaginable. One building had several floors removed, leaving the top floors completely exposed.

She imagined that if this were real, there would be homes exposed on those top floors. Couches, kitchens, home photos. She imagined how heartbreaking it would look then. _It wasn't like she needed to imagine heartbreak,_ but it was an easy distraction.

Lincoln slowed down his movements, falling in line with Clarke and Bellamy. While he led the pack for most of the night, Monty and Raven took up that position now.

"Let's head to the city," he suggested. "Take a building. Camp out there until we get a better plan." Clarke nodded in agreement, still incapable of forming words or plans.

She felt like there was a void inside her.

 _Wells was dead._

Her thoughts were spiraling, she could tell. It was hard to focus on anything else, other than how her best friend just died. _He died protecting them._ No matter how hard she tried, she was always sucked right back.

 _Brown eyes, half-smile, blood everywhere. Kind heart, brilliant laugh, open throat._

She still didn't know how it happened. Murphy promised her he would explain more when they got somewhere safe, but they hadn't had a chance to catch their breaths in hours. All she remembered was he said it was Charlotte's fault.

 _"Charlotte's gone. She did this."_ She could remember his face too, alongside those words. He was heartbroken for her. She never would've pegged him for someone so empathetic, but he was, in a strange Murphy way. He cared about them.

She didn't understand how it could possibly be her fault. _She couldn't have killed him._ No. She didn't believe that – she didn't want to believe that.

Then again, why would Murphy lie? That was one quality she liked about him; he told the truth, no matter how much it hurt. That was one of the reasons she trusted him to lead her friends to safety. He wasn't afraid to make those hard choices.

Murphy halted in his running, shaking his head and gasping for breath. He stumbled towards a tree, his shoulders shaking.

"Someone take her. I'm gonna pass out." Lincoln reached forward and scooped the young Blake up.

True to his word, Murphy hit the ground. While he didn't pass out, his legs completely gave out from under him. He was gasping for breath as he lay flat against the ground. His eyes were wide as he struggled to catch his breath.

Bellamy ran his hand over his face and grimaced when he pulled it back. Even though they had been running for hours, the blood was still wet from the light drizzle.

"I need to wash off." He rubbed his hand along his pants, swiping the blood away. "And so do you, princess." She felt empty at his words and looked at herself. She almost forgot about District 9's blood on her. "But later. We need to get somewhere safe. There are still majority of the tributes out here."

He was right. Wells and District 9's deaths brought the total of dead to ten, but that meant there were still twelve tributes out there. There were still many tributes left to kill them; the Careers, Charlotte, and two others.

Clarke was such a mess that she couldn't even remember who was still out there. _Who was still alive?_

They managed to run the rest of the way to the city. By the time they reached the outskirts, Clarke felt like she could've collapsed from exhaustion. Her muscles screamed in agony. She had a stitch in her side and her lungs felt like they were on fire. As soon as they were in the city, Raven turned to her.

"Where are we going?"

Clarke shook her head. She had no idea. She doubted she could decide either. Her mind was swimming and her heart was aching.

 _She didn't want to lead, not right now._ The last time she pushed for a decision, it lead to Wells' death. _She invited Charlotte in the alliance. She convinced them to stay at the caves._

No. She couldn't do it – not right now. She knew she needed to survive, but she also needed to grieve. _At least for a little bit._

Luckily, the decision wasn't left up to her. Raven turned to Monty and posed the same question to him.

Clarke was thankful for Raven; ever since Wells died and she had been falling, she had played it off like it was normal.

When she wasn't able to stitch up Octavia because it felt like she was dying, she blamed it on the light. When she couldn't bring herself to make a decision, she turned to Monty and began weighing the pros and cons of each building.

She didn't know her exact reasoning, but Clarke assumed it was for the sponsors. If the sponsors seen her falling apart, they'd peg her as weak. She knew the mentality well; emotions and humanity made someone weak. Being human made them weak.

 _It was sick and terrible and she hated it._

Emotion made people stronger. Why was showing up a sign of weakness?

"That one." Monty pointed towards the centre of the city, gesturing to a tall building.

It was green with mold and mildew and pieces of the exterior were falling apart, but it didn't look half as bad as most of the other buildings. It wasn't tipping over and most of the windows weren't smashed out.

"Good," Raven agreed and they continued running.

They ran as quietly as they could. Still, their pounding of feet on the ground echoed through the silent city. Unlike last time, they didn't have the energy to make their footfalls silent. They stayed hidden in the shadows and hoped nobody was awake this early in the morning.

Even though she was exhausted and it felt like her insides were slowly eating her alive, she was alert. Clarke's eyes scanned the buildings lining the streets they ran down, searching for movement. Her ears were strained as she tried to hear anything that hinted at another tribute being near. Bellamy had his sword drawn as they ran towards the skyscraper, ready for anything.

As soon as they reached the building, Bellamy took the lead and Lincoln fell to the middle, Octavia still clutched in his arms. The rest of the group had their weapons drawn.

Bellamy reached for the doorknob and twisted it. Without much resistance, it flew open. He looked at Clarke, raising his eyebrows. She knew what he was meaning. _Together?_

 _Of course,_ she wanted to respond. _Always together._

She couldn't shatter the silence that consumed them though; instead, she nodded and stepped forward, her sword already drawn. They would take the lead as they climbed the stairs, ready for any tributes they might encounter.

 _Luckily, they didn't run into anyone._

They climbed ten stories up, all the way to the floor just under the roof. The building was clearly old, as the stairs creaked with every step they took. Clarke was half expecting one of the staircases to give out under the weight of several people on top of it.

 _Now, that would be a show._ Somehow, she expected the sponsors and Gamemakers would love to see teenagers falling to their deaths. It was a sick and disturbing thing, which is how she knew they would most likely enjoy it.

The building was built around one central staircase that wound up to the top. If she wanted to, she could stare straight to the bottom of the building, even from the top floor. At each floor, a single doors sat on furthest side of the stairwell.

She could feel her legs getting weaker and weaker with each floor they climbed. She was exhausted in every way possible; mentally, physically, emotionally.

As they climbed, Bellamy checked the rooms She didn't know what she would do if they found a tribute. She doubted she would be able to fight anyone and win, especially considering how exhausted she was.

Finally, they reached the tenth floor. As soon as Bellamy made sure the room was safe, the rest of her alliance moved into the small room and shut the door. They collapsed around each other, all of the gasping for breath. Lincoln placed Octavia down gently before resting his full weight against the wall, his head tilting towards the ceiling.

Clarke leaned roughly on her knees, her hands pressed to her eyes. She could see stars behind her closed eyelids and her fingertips dug into her hair.

 _Don't think._

 _Don't think._

 _Don't think._

She could feel emotions rising in her, now that they were safe, but she refused to feel them.

 _She couldn't._

As soon as she did, she had to admit it was real. As soon as she let the pain, sorrow and grief in, she had to accept the fact Wells died.

 _He was dead._

She couldn't stop the tears the flowed out of her eyes, wetting her hands. Her shoulders shook silently as she cried for her best friend. _As she mourned for him._

Gods, why didn't she forgive him earlier? Why didn't she allow him to talk, to explain things? It wasn't his fault that her dad died, yet she held him accountable.

She couldn't ignore her regrets. She couldn't bare to think of how their time in the Games would've gone if had listened to him that day on the train. If she forgave him from the moment she saw him on stage, would he still be alive? Would things have happened differently?

 _Yes._ She could've done things differently. He could've still been beside her.

"What the hell happened?" Bellamy's voice was hoarse and low.

Clarke glanced around her alliance, examining them for any injuries. Raven was on all fours across the room, gasping for breath. Monty was in a similar position beside her, gagging once again.

 _Smoke inhalation,_ she suspected. They were both standing the closest to the roaring fire as the rest of them packed up their belongings.

"It was Charlotte," Murphy spoke up. Clarke's heart stopped at that. He was kneeling in the doorway, looking completely wiped. "Wells was on watch. I woke up when I heard someone moving around." He adverted his eyes away from Clarke's empty stare. "It was her. She went to sit with him at the mouth of the cave. I assumed she couldn't sleep, that she had another nightmare."

"Then she killed him." Clarke was surprised at the lack of emotion in her voice.

The group turned to her, shocked that she spoke, shocked that she sounded so empty – she didn't care about the reason. _Nobody knew what to say_. They knew she cared about Wells. Ever since they figured things out and they forgave each other, they had been inseparable.

"Yeah." Murphy shifted, resting his back against the door. "She stabbed him in the neck with the fucking knife I gave her. The one from the bloodbath." He rubbed his forehead and his lips were thin.

Clarke's heart gave a twinge of pain at his admission, but she couldn't blame him for what happened. Nobody could've predicted the knife he found and gave to the kid would be used to kill Wells. Murphy wasn't the one to blame here. Charlotte wasn't even to blame, not really.

 _It was the Capitol._ They had pitted all the kids in the arena against each other. They had sent them all here to fight and die. If she wanted to blame someone and be angry, it was them.

Murphy looked at her for the first time since they claimed the building. "By the time I realized what she was doing, I was too late." He glanced away. "The knife was already in him. He was already gone. When she seen I was awake, she took off. She triggered the explosions as she did; I don't know if it was by accident or if she did it on purpose, but fire was everywhere before I could get outside to her. By the time I woke everyone up, the Careers were there."

"How did they find us?" Lincoln growled. "If they knew where we were, why didn't they strike earlier? Why didn't they hit when we were all sleeping?"

"It was the sponsor gift," Bellamy realized. His jaw had gone slack and he looked sick. "It fell from the sky – anyone in the area around us would've seen it. You said so yourself, Raven." She nodded her head. _It was true._ That's why she wanted to make the trap with Monty. "They knew tributes were in that patch of woods."

"And the explosion led them straight to us," Monty finished, looking guilty. He swore. Clarke made a mental note to assure him that it wasn't his or Raven's fault when her lungs weren't on fire anymore.

"Where's Charlotte now?" Lincoln directed his question at Murphy. He scoffed.

"Hell if I know." He dropped his knife to the floor and wiped his hand on his pants. "She was using us." Clarke felt like she was going be sick when she figured out what Murphy was implying. "She knew exactly what she was doing."

Clarke grabbed a fistful of her hair. Her knuckles screamed in protest. They were so sore from being clenched around the hilt of her sword for the last several hours. _She didn't care._

"She is just a kid," Lincoln insisted. "She couldn't have been planning to kill someone this whole time." He swallowed thickly. "Right?"

Clarke could understand what Lincoln was going through in that moment. She was the one to take her under her wing and invite her into an alliance. She trusted her and believed that she was innocent.

 _Lincoln had too._ He believed that she was just a kid that needed protecting. He wanted to keep her away from all the horrors of the arena. _Little did they know that she would bring the most horror to them._

"She took her time selecting a target," Murphy pointed out. "She was buddy-buddy with you and Clarke. Clarke loves the Blakes. Raven and Monty were nice to her." He smiled grimly. "Then there was Wells and I. Who was she going to kill out of all of us?"

Clarke felt her heart fall to her stomach. She should've seen this coming. Charlotte didn't want to bond with Murphy or Wells for the first four days. She only began to accept Murphy on the fourth day. She had always pretended Wells didn't exist.

"But I knew her." Lincoln looked utterly destroyed. "I've known her for years. She… She grew up with my sisters."

"She must've been waiting for a good time to strike," Murphy pointed out. He snorted. Clarke wanted to smack that smirk off his face. "And you called me the snake."

"And how do we know you're telling the truth?" Bellamy argued, his jaw locking. Murphy narrowed his eyes at him. They definitely hadn't made much progress towards friendship, despite what Clarke hoped. "You could've killed Wells. Then, you killed Charlotte, or scared her off. How do we know you're telling the truth?"

Murphy smirked wider. "Looks like you're going to have to trust me, huh?" he asked. He chuckled at the irony. "Welcome to my fucking world, Blake. I can't trust you. You can't trust me."

"Shut up, Murphy," Bellamy warned.

Murphy turned to Clarke. "Why is he still here? We're done with his crappy cave." Just as she was opening her mouth to speak, Lincoln spoke up.

"He's one of us now," he said, his voice holding no room for questions. Clarke blinked at him, too shocked to really respond. Bellamy's lips twitched upwards. "He's given us shelter, food, water, medicine. Both Bellamy and Clarke were willing to lay down their lives so we could escape."

Murphy rolled his eyes and scoffed. "More like so his sister could live."

Lincoln stood up straighter. "Does it matter? We would've lived." He glanced at Bellamy. "Thank you." His eyes flicked to Clarke's. "Both of you."

"Hell, I trust you more than I trust Murphy," Raven joked. Clarke had a feeling there might've been some truth to that statement. They were silent for a few seconds. Finally, Monty spoke up.

"Do I have to be the one to say it?" Seeing nobody spoke up, he continued. "You're welcome in our alliance, Bellamy."

"And Octavia too," Lincoln added quickly. He glanced down at the younger Blake, a softer expression taking the place of the mask her wore. "Both of you." Bellamy glanced at Clarke, but she couldn't find it in herself to smile.

"Seeing every other strategy I had went to hell, we're in."

* * *

Clarke felt numb. She felt like there was a gaping hole inside her torso, eating away at her.

She felt guilty. _Wells was dead._

Her heart hurt. Her throat felt constricted. She could feel the pain of her loss humming in the back of her mind, but she tried to ignore it.

She tied off the final stitch she put in Octavia, cutting the floss. She handed the sewing needle to Bellamy so she could wrap her up.

While she appreciated Bellamy's help, he wasn't Wells. _He wasn't a replacement for her best friend._ Just seeing him trying to substitute for him hurt her heart more. _That should've been Wells sterilizing her medical equipment – not him._

She could barely move. Murphy and Lincoln headed to sleep fairly early and Monty and Raven both decided to go on watch.

After what happened earlier that night, they decided it would be best to implement a new rule; _nobody goes on watch alone_.

That left her, Octavia, and Bellamy. Octavia still hadn't woken up from when she passed out several hours ago. Clarke doubted she would wake up for awhile. While she didn't think she was in any danger because of the injection she had, she did lose a lot of blood. It would take a while for the injection to stimulate cell growth in her blood.

Her arms felt like lead. Her hands shook from hunger, exhaustion and fear, which wasn't too great for stitching someone up, but what else was she supposed to do? She couldn't very well let Octavia bleed out because she was too tired to move.

She finished wrapping the bandage around her middle just as she finished the roll of gauze. She crumpled up the wrapper of their last bandage and stuffed it into the bag full of medical equipment.

 _If she could even call it that._

They were out of gauze and bandages. They would be out of sterilizer as soon as both her and Bellamy washed their hands after their operation. They still had their single needle from the sewing kit, but she suspected they only had another few inches of floss in the container.

 _They were totally fucked._

She knew they were running low on other supplies as well. They still had a bunch of food thanks to the sponsor package, but they discovered they left the liter of water back in the cave when they escaped. Once again, they were down to their five metal bottles, only two of which were still full.

Even the other items looked less than what she remembered them having. They must've forgot a few things in the cave.

They had matches, some kindle, a rope, a torn up and bloody blanket, gloves, a toothbrush, and toothpaste. _They were even low on weapons_. Charlotte stole a few knives, they left Wells' knife with his body, and she gave hers to Bellamy.

They were down to three swords for her, Bellamy and Lincoln. Murphy had a single knife, and so did Octavia. It left Raven and Monty without a weapon.

 _Screwed. They were so screwed._

Clarke leaned backwards and her shoulders slumped forward. She watched Bellamy out of the corner of her eye. "We need supplies," she told him. He placed the sewing kit back into the medical backpack, giving no indication he heard her.

"That's a problem for another day." He leaned back slowly, resting his back on the wall adjacent to Octavia. Clarke knew he must've been exhausted; he had run just as far as she did, but he did so carrying Octavia.

"No, we need it now. We could be attacked at any second." She stood up from the ground slowly, her legs shaking beneath her. If a tribute attacked, she wouldn't be able to escape. _Not like this._

"Hey." Bellamy reached forward and caught Clarke's hand. She paused in her movements, thrown off guard by the contact. "Sit. We deserve a break."

"We deserve a drink," she pointed out. _They deserved more than a few drinks._

Still, she complied. She moved over to where he sat, joining him on the floor. She gasped as she lowered herself. Her muscles were aching. Bellamy didn't say anything for a long moment, nor did he reach out for her. They just sat beside each other, too caught up in their own minds to speak.

Finally, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her into his side. She rested her head right above his heart, finding peace in the steady beating of it.

"I'm sorry, Clarke." His voice rumbled through his chest. She could feel it on her cheek. _She didn't say anything._ She felt a twinge of pain in her heart. "I know you grew up with him."

"He didn't deserve to die." Her voice was a whisper. She doubted she could speak any louder than that. Tears pricked her eyes. "He was a good man. Better than I gave him credit for."

Bellamy was silent as she spoke, choosing to hold her close instead of discussing. Clarke was thankful for this. Sometimes, all someone needed was to feel someone beside them and to have them listen. _That's what she needed right then._

"I always said he betrayed me, but he didn't. _He did the complete opposite_. He wanted me to be safe. He wanted to protect me." He wanted to protect her from the truth and while in the Games. _Wells wanted to protect Clarke from everything he could._ "Even when I stopped loving him, he never stopped loving me. _That's what he told me_." Her voice cracked and her chin trembled. "I didn't deserve him."

 _Finally, the dam broke._ Tears flooded her cheeks and she pressed her hand tightly to her forehead. Bellamy pulled her shoulders tighter, enveloping her in warmth and safety.

"He came here to protect someone he loved, Clarke," he told her. "I would be okay with dying protect Octavia. I'm sure he felt the same way."

Clarke didn't have any energy to argue. It didn't matter how Wells felt about dying. _She caused this. It was her fault._

That morning, Clarke fell asleep in the only place safe to her; Bellamy's arms.

* * *

 **Here is a list of tributes remaining. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter (there are none for this chapter). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 8 Female: Charlotte  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thank you once again for reading.**

 **The next update will be on Friday.**

 **Feel free to follow me on Twitter (Pawprinter1) and Tumblr (pawprinterfanfic)!**

 **Paw**


	29. Chapter 29: Not Enough

**Surprise! I know I just recently switched my updating schedule to every Tuesday and Friday, but I'm planning on switching them once again because... I am ALMOST done pre-writing this whole fic! I have the next 19 chapters pre-written and ready to post, and I'm currently working on writing the last three. Because I'm so ahead in pre-writing, I am bumping the number of times I update to 3 times a week! That means I'll be posting every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.**  
 **[This schedule works out perfectly, because the last chapter will be posted on April 27, which is the Saturday before season 6 airs!]**

 **Chapter warnings: angst, mention of character death, discussion of injuries**

 **A little note about the setting and timing of this chapter, in case it wasn't clear. Chapter 26 took place on day 4, just before midnight. Chapter 27 and 28 took place during day 5, around 3AM (which means Wells died on day 5). This chapter takes place during day 5 too, but later in the day.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 29: Not Enough**

* * *

 _Day 5 in the arena_

* * *

When Clarke woke up, she felt more comfortable than she had been in weeks. Warm arms were wrapped around her body, pulling her close. Her head was resting against his chest, the steady beat of his heart under her ear. Bellamy's breaths were even against the top of her head.

She smiled. _He was still asleep._

One of his hands was under her jacket, pressing into the back of her shirt. Even though he wasn't touching her skin, the contact felt more intimate than anything else she had experienced with him. Her hands were the same, both were buried under his jacket and pressed into the back of his shirt.

Her fingers hurt from clutching at the material all night and she could feel her hair stuck to her cheeks from her dried tears. Her whole body hurt, but, right now, she was content.

She tried to pulled her head back to look at him, but his arms tightened around her body, pulling her closer. She let out a soft laugh and went willingly. She buried her nose into his shirt and couldn't help but smile.

 _When had she fallen so much for him?_

She glanced up at his sleeping face and felt her heart warm. He looked peaceful, which was surprising due to their location. His face was stony, it didn't show any emotion, but his eyebrows were smoothed and his forehead rested. He worried too much when he was awake. Rightly so, she reminded herself, but it was also nice to see him have a small break.

She turned her head to glance around the room. Lincoln was staring out the window intently, scanning the ruined city ten stories below them. Murphy was still fast asleep across the room, his head tucked against his backpack and his back pressed against the wall. Her heart gave a twinge of pain to see him clutching his knife, even while he slept. Raven and Monty were sitting in the doorway, completely silent as they watched the staircase for any approaching tributes.

The building was a nice place to camp, she had to admit. Her nose stung from the mold in the air, but she couldn't complain. They were out of the rain and wind, they were away from other tributes, and they had the advantage of height.

She liked it. She wasn't too sure how long they were going to stay, but she wasn't eager to leave. She felt safe in that small room, surrounded by people she trusted. Out there – out in the woods – she felt open and exposed, even when she was crammed into a tiny cave.

"You're up." Lincoln's voice startled her, making her jump.

Bellamy's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. He had already begun to move in front of her, but stopped when he realized it was only Lincoln and not a threat. While she was sure the group would've found his protectiveness funny just the other day, it just hurt now.

One of their own betrayed them. Danger was everywhere, closer than any of them realized. Wells' death sobered them all. It reminded them that this wasn't a game, despite the name. _It was a way to murder them all_. It was a way to strip down who they were and to build them back up as different people.

 _Murders. Cold. Broken._

Wells' death seemed to fit in with the Capitol's message; _you can't trust anyone._

It felt like they couldn't trust anybody, not even their allies. _Wells was killed by one of their own._ Charlotte was one of the first members of the alliance, only coming after Raven and Murphy. They trained with her every day. They spoke to her for hours. They sat around, drinking water, sharing stories of home. _It hurt them more than anyone that she betrayed them._

Everyone except Lincoln.

He was from her home district and felt Charlotte's betrayal more than anyone. He watched her grow up. He knew her family and he helped her at school. _She wasn't a stranger to him_. He was someone he had seen go from a baby to a child. He didn't believe that could've happened, that she could've betrayed them like that.

She knew that she couldn't let the Capitol win by losing trust in the people around her. _That was what they wanted._ She didn't feel her trust for her allies dim, even though she knew the Capitol would be hoping for that. She knew they were eager to see her downfall; to see her question herself and the people around her, to see her doubt everyone's intentions and humanity, to see everything about herself crumble.

When he seen Bellamy awake, Lincoln spoke. "Octavia was awake." He moved away from the window, turning to face the group. His voice woke Murphy from his sleep, whom didn't seem to pleased about that.

Clarke felt Bellamy tense under her. "And you didn't wake me?" Bellamy's voice was harsh; unforgiving.

Lincoln cocked an eyebrow, not phased by him. "She was up for two minutes. I was going to wake you up, but she told me to let you two sleep." His lips twitched at that, fighting a smile.

While Clarke would've once been embarrassed that all these people had watched her sleep snuggled into Bellamy, she couldn't give two shits now.

They were exhausted. She was in pain. The reality hit them that they weren't all going to survive.

 _Screw her reservations_.

She was following Wells' advice now – his last piece of advice. _Don't deny the simple pleasures_. If falling sleep against Bellamy was enjoyable to her – which it sure as hell was – then she was going to do it.

Bellamy seemed to relax at Lincoln's reassurance. "How was she?"

"Out of it." Lincoln glanced at Octavia again. The rest of her alliance didn't trust her, but she could sense Lincoln becoming protective of her. She assumed that carrying her for hours as they ran to safety would do that. "She barely remembered what happened last night. All she remembered was fire and screaming. She also mentioned something about eating grass, but I think she was hallucinating."

"Not hallucinating," Octavia mumbled from the floor, her face tensed with pain. She winced as she tried to open her eyes. Bellamy jumped up from where he sat and raced to his sister's side. He dropped to his knees beside her and her eyes flicked to his. "Hey, big brother."

"You're awake." His voice was shocked. His hands shot out towards her, looking for signs of an infection. "Are you okay? You're hallucinating?"

"I'm hurt, not dead." She slapped his hand off of her forehead. Still, they both smiled at each other. Clarke would never truly understand their relationship. The closest thing she had to a brother was Wells. The Blakes were a whole different story. They would give their lives in a heartbeat for each other. "I said it felt like I ate _glass_. I guess our friend over there is a shitty listener."

"I have a name, you know." Lincoln pointed out, his chest puffed. "It's Lincoln. District-"

"You're from District 8. I know." She tried to sit up and winced. Clarke was by her side in an instant, pushing her back down.

"No." Octavia looked at her for a long moment before smirking. Clarke ignored her pointed stare. "You're injured. You were practically on your deathbed only a few days ago. You're not going anywhere."

She frowned. "I'm fine."

Clarke snorted. "Oh, yeah? This is the first time I spoke to you since the interviews," she pointed out.

An uneasy feeling settled over her. _That felt like a lifetime ago_.

Almost like Octavia could sense Clarke's sudden unease, she laid back down without a fight, her head resting on a half-empty backpack. She looked like she was on the verge of laughing and she had a shit-eating grin on her face. Clarke tried to ignore it.

She reached forward and undid the bandages around her torso. The wound was looking good. There still wasn't an infection, thank goodness. The medication from the Capitol was still active in her system, healing her wounds that were freshly opened only hours ago. Even where Clarke had punctured to stitch the hole closed wasn't red or irritated.

While she knew that if Octavia tried to use her core muscles any time soon, her wound would easily reopen, she was happy with the progress. Her life wasn't up in the air anymore. Clarke was certain she would live.

Well, she couldn't be certain about that, but she was certain she wouldn't die from her wound.

"You're doing well," Clarke commented. "Almost healed up. Try not to move too much for the next day; the skin needs to be as still as possible to seal up completely. The stitches should help, but we don't want you healing improperly or to keep tearing it."

Clarke frowned and looked at the dirty bandage in her hands. _This was the last of the gauze_. Octavia still needed her wound wrapped and she couldn't reuse old bandages. She placed a clean portion of the bandage across Octavia's torso and tried to hide her discomfort at that. _That would have to do for now._

"I'm all good," Murphy commented. He had already ripped off his bandage and was examining his arm closely. While the skin looked red and raw, his wound was completely sealed. "Thanks, doc."

Clarke smiled at him. "I should be thanking you. You saved my life for that scar," she pointed out. "And you," she turned to Octavia. "You saved all of us back there."

She shrugged. "I don't remember much. I think I was still delirious..." She waved her hand in the air, dismissing the thought. "All I remember is heat so bad I felt like I was on fire."

"We _were_ on fire," Murphy muttered. Octavia glanced at him, a sneer on her face.

"And you are?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, each battling each other silently. Clarke sighed internally. Murphy seemed to rub people the wrong way. It wouldn't be a problem if he didn't like it so much.

"Relax, O. He's fine." Bellamy placed a hand on her upper arm and she turned away from him. Murphy grinned at that.

"Like I was saying, I felt heat and fire. People were yelling. He was trying to grab me." She gestured towards Lincoln. "I was about to stab him, but then I seen you." She glanced at Bellamy, an odd expression on her face. Her voice was strained. "You needed help."

"I seen you too," Bellamy said. His laugh was wet, like he was on the verge of crying. "You were about to hit Clarke with a knife."

Octavia scoffed, but smiled to let him know she was only joking. "I was out of it, okay? Can't blame me." Clarke rolled her eyes. The youngest Blake was cheeky.

"It worked out the best it could," Raven added from the door. The two girls looked at each other. She could tell Octavia was sizing her up. She waved and smiled genuinely. "I'm Raven. District 3."

"I'm Monty."

Clarke realized that Octavia didn't know any of the faces around the room except for hers and Bellamy's. The only person that she seemed to know was Lincoln from him carrying her. Even though Murphy was only feet away from her, he didn't seem like he was wanting to be her new buddy.

"That's Murphy," Raven added after a moment. "He's an ass."

"Hey, watch it," he warned, waving his knife leisurely in the air. Raven smirked at that. Bellamy moved out of the way of the blade and glared. "I carried her body for hours today. Would an ass have done that?"

Raven mockingly stuck her nose in the air. "I don't know, you might just be a cockroach playing dress up."

Clarke expected Murphy to have the last word like he usually did, but he stayed silent. He grinned widely at his and Raven's joke before tossing the knife to the ground beside him and lounging back.

"Maybe you shouldn't wave a knife around," Bellamy pointed out, his voice leery. "I don't need to worry about who you'll hit with it."

Murphy cracked his eye open and pushed off the ground. "Okay, _dad._ Fuck."

Before another conflict between Murphy and Bellamy could break out, Clarke placed her hand on Bellamy's wrist and shifted between them. "I think we all need a break from each other. We've been cooped up for a little too long."

"Fine by me," Murphy huffed, closing his eyes again. "Do whatever the hell you want, princess."

Bellamy lifted his eyebrow at Murphy, but Clarke shook her head. "It's okay. We're hungry, thirsty, tired, weary. I get it. I know I am." She set her jaw. "But we're alive. We're here together – we made it out." She adverted her eyes to Octavia's wrapped wound, trying to distract herself. "Wells died for _all_ of us. _Not just for me, not for himself._ He died because he was on watch the night Charlotte attacked. He died trying to protect _all of us_ – the alliance. And because of him and everyone here, we made it out alive."

"We won't be alive for much longer if we don't get food." Murphy sounded deflated and his voice had lost the hard edge to it. He rubbed his face tiredly.

"The point is, we're alive because of each other." She stared at the two of them for a moment. They always seemed to get om each other's nerves, especially with the tensions running so high.

"We can go look for food," Bellamy suggested, already standing up. "We'll go to the woods just outside the city limits. You know what we can eat. I'll be able to stand guard while you forage."

Clarke nodded her head, already moving. _It was a good idea._ Her and Bellamy would be able to get fresh air and let Murphy simmer down. Hopefully someone would bond with Octavia while they were gone. She predicted that Lincoln would be more than willing to keep her occupied.

She grabbed the backpack filled with the miscellaneous items, as it was the emptiest. She hoped by the time they came back, it would be full. They needed food, and if they were going to stay in the small room for as long as she hoped, they would need lots.

"You shouldn't go out there," Raven cautioned. "The Careers..."

"It'll be okay," Clarke reassured. "We need food. They don't know where we are – we ran for _hours_ last night. Even if they hunt Bellamy and I, they're not going to know where you'll be. You'll be safe."

Raven took a step towards her, her forehead creased. "I'm not worried about myself, Clarke. I'm worried about _you_." She smiled at her. They had become a family in the middle of all of this and she really cared about her, too.

"I'll be fine," she promised her. "I have Bellamy."

Raven smirked at that and took a step backwards, showing her compliance with Clarke's plan. Nobody else spoke up; they must've realized how short on food they really were.

She picked up her sword from the ground and tightened the straps of the backpack. "If we're not back in a few hours, don't come looking. Stay safe. Stay together."

Octavia looked it her brother. "Be safe."

They were silent as they left the building. The only sounds they made were when their boots hit the wooden steps, sending the sound echoing through the stairwell.

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest and her hands were sweaty. Her fingers cramped around the sword, but she didn't dare adjust her grip. She had held this sword for more hours than she thought possible earlier that day, and she was paying the price for it with the pain in her hand and the soreness up through her arm.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Bellamy slowly pushed the door open. He stuck his head out slowly, scanning the area. She waited anxiously for the all clear signal. As soon as he nodded, they both took off running.

The wind slapped her in the face as soon as she stepped out of the building. The sky was grey with clouds and the wind carried tiny drops of water, whipping against her skin so hard she felt like she was cut with glass. She pulled the jacket around her torso tightly and ducked her head under her collar.

 _It was freezing out._

Screw the Capitol for creating some crappy arena for them. Too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry. They really couldn't catch a break, and the weather was never consistent enough to figure out how to survive.

Bellamy lead their way into the forest, both of them too tired and too scared to make a noise. Clarke found herself stepping with the heel of her foot and rolling onto her toes, just like Lincoln advised them the last time they were running from the city.

She couldn't help but admire him as he ran. He was poised, ready to lunge at anything that moved. She could see the muscles along his arm rippling, reminding her than he was ready to strike at any moment. His eyes scanned the buildings intently and his forehead was creased from his focus.

They ran past the broken buildings. Small pebbles crunched under their shoes as they ran. It was a familiar path, even though Clarke knew she hadn't been through this part of the city before. Everything looked so similar, right down to the rocks on the streets and the cracks in the ground.

Once they were through the field surrounding the city and reached the tree line, Bellamy slowed to a walk. He turned and scanned the city behind them, looking for any movements. Seeing none, he turned to face her.

"Good call about food," he said, already reaching for her hand. "I wanted to talk to you." She wound her fingers with his. It was easy and natural, something she was thankful for. "Are you okay?"

That question hit her in the gut.

 _No. I'm not._

She shrugged. "I'm fine."

 _Lie_.

She wasn't fine. She was the _complete opposite_ of fine. She felt like she was falling apart over and over. She felt like she could scream and cry until her throat bled and her body ran dry.

Bellamy gave her a look. "You're not a very good liar," he pointed out.

Without another thought, Clarke gripped his hand tighter and clenched her jaw. "I lost my best friend," she said. "And I feel like it's my fault."

"It's not," he said quickly, turning to her. She could feel his eyes scanning her face, but she didn't dare turn to meet them. "You weren't the one to put a knife to his throat, Clarke. That was Charlotte."

"I invited Charlotte to the alliance. I helped train her. I was the one to tell her to stab, not slash. _That was me_." She could feel angry tears forming in her eyes. "And even then, can I really blame her? She's a child. She's twelve. She's terrified and doing what she thinks she needs to do to survive." Her shoulders slumped forward. "I can't blame her for this. I can only blame the Capitol for putting us here – they're the ones I should be mad at. _I am mad at them._ " She could feel the tears building in her eyes. "But I'm also mad at myself."

"You risked your strategy for him," he reminded her. "You told him you didn't want him in the alliance. You told him to leave you alone. When he showed up at the bloodbath, you told me that you let him stay. You trusted him and you accepted him, long before he told you the truth." Clarke was shaking. She felt sick. "You forgave him, right? And he forgave you?"

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing, Clarke. He came here knowing the risks, just like I did with Octavia." They had come to a completely stop at this point and she was facing him. She still couldn't meet his eyes. "You didn't kill him, Clarke." His voice was firm and reassuring. "You didn't."

"I still feel like I did." She felt broken as she spoke. She had so many regrets. She wished she could fix her mistakes. "He's dead, Bellamy. I grew up with him. I seen him every day of my life, excluding last year. He knew everything about me." She swiped at her eyes angrily.

"You meant just as much as he meant to you," he reminded her gently. "Would you have regretted your choices if you died protecting Wells?"

She didn't hesitate with her answer. "No."

"Maybe he wouldn't regret it either," he suggested. "I didn't know him. I didn't talk to him alone – ever. But he came here for someone else, for someone he loved. _Just like me._ I know him because I know myself, at least in some ways. I don't regret volunteering for Octavia. I don't regret giving up my life for her – and I won't regret it when I die. Maybe Wells felt the same way?"

 _Maybe._ She never would really know.

Another thought struck her, making her throat constrict. "I never told him how much he meant to me." Fresh tears filled her eyes. "For the past two weeks – _the last weeks of his life_ – I treated him terribly. And now he's dead. I can never make up for what I did, for what I said." She tried to compose herself, but failed. "I never even got to say goodbye." Her voice broke at that. She sucked in a quick breath and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep composed.

She knew this wasn't the time to mourn. She was in the middle of the arena while others were trying to kill her. She was supposed to be collecting food for her friends, and then she had to figure out what to do about supplies, and then she had to figure out the plan for shelter, and then, and then, and then.

This wasn't the time. She didn't have the luxury of being able to mourn and feel emotions anymore – not while she was in the arena.

Bellamy had been silent as she spoke, and, even after she finished, he was quiet for a long time. His hand rested on her shoulder to bring her comfort. She savored the warmth it brought her.

Finally, he stepped closer to her and ran his thumb along the seam of her jacket. "In my district, we hold funerals for people we loved," he said slowly. "Even if they died in combat and we don't have their... their body." The words were awkward for him to say, almost like talking about Wells' dead body would bring back the pain from when they first seen it. " _Especially then_. Especially when we have nothing to say goodbye to, we still say goodbye."

Clarke nodded and swiped her tears away. "We have a sendoff in my district," she said. "When someone dies, we always give them a proper sendoff." She met Bellamy's eyes. "He deserves more than that."

"He does."

"But he deserves _at least_ that. From me." Her chin trembled and she fought to keep composed. "In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again."

Somehow, she felt lighter after that. She was able to say goodbye to him, to let him know she loved him, to let him know she was going to miss him. It wasn't enough – not even close – but it was something.

She took a moment to herself, looking up at the branches of the trees reaching for the sky. She blinked away the tears and wiped them off her face, sucking in breath after breath.

Then, she turned to Bellamy and nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

 **The next chapter used to be the ending of this chapter, but I split it. I think the next chapter is one of my favourite chapters of the fic in general, so I'm beyond excited to share it. Yay!**

 **No characters died in this chapter. To see a complete listing of all alive characters, please see the previous chapter.**

 **See you on Saturday!**

 **Paw**


	30. Chapter 30: Water Soothes the Soul

**This is probably one of my favourite chapters so far, just because of how fun it was to write. Who's ready for some shameless flirting?**

 **Warnings are at the bottom author's note for this chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 30: Water Soothes the Soul**

* * *

 _Day 5 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke pulled the moss off a tree, and examined it in the light. Bellamy stood above her, his sword drawn, his eyes constantly scanning the tree line. He was tensed up and ready to strike at any moment.

Clarke doubted they would run into any tributes on their day trip. The Careers had taken off in an opposite direction than them the other day, and they had run for hours to get back to the city. If the Careers knew where they were, they would've attacked by now.

That left two other tributes and Charlotte. She'd have to remember to ask her alliance who was still alive. Not knowing who was out there was making her skin crawl.

She shoved the moss in her bag and stood up. She managed to gather some moss, a few handfuls of nuts, and several roots of plants. While it had only taken her a few hours to do, her hands felt like they could fall off. They were freezing from the winds.

She walked up to Bellamy and smiled when he turned his head to look at her. His hair was plastered along the sides of his head from the drizzling rain. He looked cute, even though she preferred his curls.

"We'll have enough food to last a bit," she said. He smiled back at her and swooped down to press a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. Instantly butterflies erupted in her stomach and her head spun. It was still a new feeling, being kissed so freely and openly by him. _Gods,_ she wanted to do that over and over again. She lit up and brushed her fingers against the palm of his hand. "What was that for?"

"No reason." She didn't think he was telling the truth with his answer. He had a smirk on his face and a dazzle in his eyes that told her he had something planned.

She smirked at him. "You're a terrible liar," she said, repeating his words from earlier right back to him.

He couldn't hold it back any longer. His face broke out into a wide smile and he took her hand in his, leading her further into the forest.

"I have a surprise."

She couldn't keep the smile from her face. Seeing him excited over something was a sight to be seen. His eyes sparkled and his smile was bigger than she thought possible. _And his dimples._ It made her weak in the knees.

He looked stunning – more so than she had ever seen him before, which included him adorned in makeup and dressed as a Roman emperor. She didn't think that look could've been topped, but she was wrong.

 _While he was covered in sweat, blood and dirt, he never looked better to her._

As soon as she seen what he was leading her to, she couldn't help but gasp. Her feet were glued to the forest floor for a brief moment before she jogged to catch up with him.

 _It was a pond._

He turned around, joy in his eyes. She must've looked just as excited as he did; her cheeks were already hurting from how wide she was smiling.

Other than this, they only found one source of water in the arena, which was over a day of walking away now. This pond was so close to where they were hiding out. They wouldn't have to ration water anymore.

Finally, it felt like something was going right.

"Wow."

She couldn't form words or even thoughts. It felt like she could collapse at the shore and cry from happiness.

 _Shit_. She never imagined she would feel so happy looking at a freaking pond, but here she was.

It was similar to the one that she found further into the arena; it was shallow around the edges, but dropped off to darkness quickly. Even the red seaweed floated in it's depths.

She didn't know how deep it was, but she could only imagine it went several feet down. A few feet off the shore, the water turned from a murky brown to dark brown, almost black. _It was deep, just like the other pond._

Just like last time, she had to advert her eyes. She didn't know how to swim and the depth of the pond terrified her. The idea of drowning terrified her.

She swallowed thickly.

"It's amazing," she admitted. They wouldn't go thirsty and that was an accomplishment in itself. One less challenge off the table meant they had a better chance at survival.

"I know." Bellamy sounded amazed.

"Let's get back to them. We can bring the water bottles back. Fill them up." She was already turning on the spot, headed for where their allies were staying. Bellamy caught her wrist.

"I have a better idea," he said.

Clarke turned back to him, her eyebrow cocked. They'd need a bottle of water to boil the water, and she knew drinking the water without boiling it would not be a good idea. Who knew what the Capitol had lurking in the water.

She watched as he placed his sword on the ground beside him and shrugged off his backpack. He reached into the bag and pulled out the single bar of soap. She felt the corners of her lips turn up into a smile.

"You want to have a bath," she commented, already laughing. He smirked coyly at her. "In this weather?"

"I hate to break it to you, princess, but we're both filthy," he teased.

While his words were light, she knew there was truth behind them. She looked down at herself and instantly felt queasy over the fact that she was covered in blood and mud. Her chest and arms were still caked with the red fluid; a mix of Murphy's, Octavia's, Atom's and the boy from District 9.

 _She really seen a lot of people die._

Her skin was flaked in dirt and sweat. She could feel blood in her hair too, but she couldn't begin to guess who's it was. All she could think about was how disgusted she felt being covered in blood.

 _They both needed to wash off._ The sooner, the better.

Deciding his plan was a good idea, she tried to work through the logistics of it all. "Our clothes won't dry without the sun," she pointed out. He dropped the bar of soap to the ground and shrugged off his jacket. He gave her a look. Gods, she had never seen him look so cocky before.

"I don't plan on getting my clothes wet."

She nearly choked at that. Her mind was wondering places where it _definitely should not be going_ and – s _hit, so were her eyes._

She quickly raked her eyes back up his body, focusing on his eyes. "Bellamy!" she hissed. His grin was toothy. "We're in the middle of the woods in the arena. We could be attacked at any minute. And you want to skinny dip?"

He let out a hearty laugh at that. He pressed his lips tightly together to keep quiet, but she could still see the joy in the way the corner of his eyes crinkled.

"I'm not getting naked, princess," he told her. Clarke tried not to feel disappointed at that fact. "I'll be keeping some stuff on. This is a family show after all," he said, snorted at his own joke. She would've laughed if she wasn't trying to prevent herself from openly staring at him.

He tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his shoulders. As his face was covered with the Capitol issued shirt, she let her eyes drop down to his chest. His muscles were defined from all the years of training. His chest was littered with faint scars, ones she was sure all had interesting stories behind.

Bellamy dropped his shirt into a pile by his jacket. When he caught her eyes, he was smirking and had his eyebrows raised. Clarke scoffed at his cocky expression, but couldn't form a coherent sentence to tease him with.

 _What was with her?_ She'd seen him shirtless before. Actually, the first time she ever met Bellamy, he was shirtless. That was at the tribute parade, only two weeks ago.

"We shouldn't," she said. While that was the words coming out of her mouth, she was already unclipping her backpack from around her waist. "What if someone comes? We'll be in the water, away from our weapons..."

He took a step towards her and her heart leapt to her throat. Wasn't it illegal to look this good? She was pretty sure it was. Or it should be. _It really should be._ "Clarke." Somehow, his wide smirk was making him even _more_ attractive. "I was thinking more along the lines of taking turns."

"Huh?" Her heart stopped and she felt her stomach turn to lead.

 _Oh, shit._

She felt like her face was on fire when she fully comprehended his words. He wasn't planning on swimming half-naked _with_ her. He was just planning on swimming half-naked.

Alone.

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

"One of us will go in at a time," he clarified.

Clarke wanted to fade away into the shadows.

 _This was too fucking awkward._

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Yeah. Yeah, that totally makes sense."

Clarke felt like the ground should just open up and swallow her whole in that moment. She assumed and blatantly suggested they were going to go skinny dipping together. Her cheeks were bright red, she could tell.

Well, at least Bellamy already knew she was attracted to him. If they hadn't worked out their feelings, it would've been worse. _Yeah,_ she tried to tell herself. _It could have been worse._

That didn't really make her feel better.

Bellamy let out a hearty laugh and lowered his lips to her cheek. She was very aware about the fact that he was shirtless and inches away from her. He planted a soft kiss against her burning skin before moving his lips towards her ear.

"You make a _very_ tempting offer, Ms. Griffin." He pulled back and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. He pulled away from her completely, winking as he did.

She was so stunned that she couldn't think of a reply quick enough. _Did he-? But he-? Shit._

By the time she could form any words again, he had undone the belt around his waist and was pushing them down his legs.

Clarke turned her eyes towards the sky and she felt the blush spread all the way down her chest. She begged herself to get control.

"You do realize you're like… really hot, right, Bell?" He let out a bark of laughter and stepped out of his clothes. "It's really not fair."

"If you're uncomfortable-"

"That is the exact opposite of the problem I'm having right now," she promised him. Finally, she met his eyes. "Fuck."

He seemed pleased with her reaction, if she was judging based on his coy smirk.

"I'll go first?"

"Oh, good," Clarke teased. "I'll get to see you naked _and_ wet." She ran her hands down her face and groaned. "If we weren't on television, Blake…" Before he could respond, she pointed towards the pond, her eyes still closed. "Go. Before I accidentally say something else."

She watched as he retreated to the pond, the bar of soap clutched in his hands. Hell, even his back looked good.

While he was still wearing the Capitol issued underwear, she felt like she had just seen him completely naked. He had stripped down in front of her like it was nothing, but it drove her crazy. Even though the wind was howling and rain was splattering against her cheeks, she felt extremely and inexplicably warm.

She turned away from the water, turning her sword in her hands a few times. She could hear Bellamy in the water, moving around. She wanted to turn around to tease him – or to ogle him – but she didn't. She was already fighting her blush; she didn't need any additional imagery to add to it.

As the heat on her face simmered down, she scanned the tree line for any movements. While she was focused, her mind buzzed with thoughts.

 _She wanted to kiss him so desperately._

They only shared light kisses before, she realized. Suddenly, she wanted more. _Needed more_.

She struggled to put those thoughts out of her mind. She was not going to jump him while on television. Her mother could be watching for all she knew. Did she really want to make out with a boy while being broadcast across Panem?

She felt even more warm than before. She fanned herself and pulled at the hem of her jacket.

She knew she was being dumb. _They were in the Games_. She shouldn't be thinking about trivial things like kissing; she was supposed to be focused on fighting for her survival. She needed to focus all of her energy on surviving the Games as long as she could, and helping her friends win. She shouldn't be fantasizing about Bellamy's lips on hers.

She bit her bottom lip and let out a small laugh.

 _What the hell was she doing?_

She was dreaming about things she could never have. She was wanting things that were impossible to have.

She could hear Bellamy walking out of the water. She let out a short breath of air, stoned her face, and turned to face him. She didn't dare look at his body. Instead, she focused on his eyes.

"It's freezing in there," he gasped out. His arms were wrapped tightly around his body and he was shivering. "But it feels amazing. I almost forgot who I was, being covered in all that." He walked the rest of the distance to her and handed her the soap. She took it and looked at him pointedly. "What? Do I have a bug on me or-"

"Turn the other way," Clarke asked.

Without hesitating, he turned the other way. As soon as he wasn't looking, she slipped out of her jacket. The freezing air hit her warm skin and goose bumps erupted across her skin. She quickly lifted her shirt, tossing it to the side, and slipped out of her pants.

She didn't care if he seen her naked.

Actually, the problem wasn't that at it. It was the fact she _did_ want him to see her. For some reason, seeing him nearly naked made her mind spin completely out of control. All she wanted to do was jump onto him and kiss him.

She knew that if he watched her get undressed, it would just push her further along that train of thought.

She reached forward and took the soap out of Bellamy's hand. Her bare arm brushed against the side of his torso, just like so many nights ago when they first met. A spark went up her arm and lit her on fire.

She obviously wasn't the only one effected by the situation. As soon as their skin connected, he tended up. Clarke smirked at that.

"I don't have to be here if you're not comfortable," Bellamy offered, still facing away from her. "I can watch the perimeter from somewhere else, I-"

"I'm comfortable," she assured him. She stepped around him, so she was in his line of sight. He kept his eyes locked on hers. "It's just…" She waved her hand. "I watched _you_ get undressed and I basically fell apart, and I know I watched you watch me get undressed, the same thing would've happened to me again." She paused and tilted her head. "I have no idea what the hell I'm saying."

Bellamy laughed. "I get it." He lifted his eyebrows. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine with you being here. I don't have an issue." He nodded. It was her turn to smirk cockily. "You can look, you know."

"Clarke, you'll be the death of me."

 _She sure as hell hoped not._

She took the soap from his hand and smirked. "I'll be back."

She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked into the water. She couldn't help but smirk at that. If she drove him half as crazy as he drove her, it would've been a success in her mind.

The water lapped at her toes. Instantly, a zap went up her spine and her breath caught in her chest. _The water was ice cold_. She doubted she would be able to bathe for long.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly as she walked further into the pond. When the water reached her waist, she began to scrub her skin. The water around her was turning rusty brown from the amount of blood that was on her. Each time a piece of seaweed brushed up against her leg, she cringed and moved further away.

She stayed close to the shore, still terrified of the depths. Flirting with Bellamy gave her some momentary confidence and made her feel like she was on top of the world; she didn't even think twice about moving into the water. She kept herself calm with the fact she wouldn't have to swim – she would stay where her feet touched the mud.

Even though the water was freezing, it felt so good to get clean. She didn't even realize just how dirty she was. The blood from all of the people she helped heal and help kill disintegrated into the water. The mud kicked up from under her, making the water murky.

She lathered up her arms and around her neck, tilting her head back to the sky. Her eyes fluttered shut as she did. For the first time in a long time, she felt content. Bellamy was right. She felt like a different person as soon as the blood and the dirt was off of her.

When she felt cool fingers wrap around her ankle, her eyes shot open. She had just enough time to let out a startled shriek before she was dragged underwater. Her arms hit the surface with great force, making it feel like they were burning.

Panic flared in her once her head was thrown under the water. She felt adrenaline hit her wrists, making her hands feel numb. If she was above the surface, she knew she would've been screaming.

 _Oh, gods. She was going to die. She was going to drown._

Air bubbled around her as she was pulled roughly under the surface. She tried to kick away from whatever took hold of her, but the grip on her ankle got tighter with the more she struggled. She flailed her arms wildly around her, looking for anything to grip on to.

 _There was nothing._

Clarke's heart was pounding out of her chest and she tried kicking her limbs again, trying to swim away. _Fuck,_ she didn't know how to swim.

 _This was it. She was going to die._

The hand dragged her deeper and deeper under water. The water turned colder than she ever felt as she got deeper, since the sunlight couldn't reach the depth she was in. She kicked and kicked, trying anything to free herself from whatever had hold of her.

She didn't know what to do.

All she knew was she was being dragged further from the surface.

 _All she knew was that she was going to die._

As she kicked wildly, she looked up, desperate for the surface. She could see the shimmering light several feet above her already. Every second, the surface got further and further away.

Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. She felt adrenaline coursing through her veins, so much so that she could feel her whole body shaking. She felt like she couldn't move, both paralyzed with fear and cold.

Her lungs were already burning, begging for her to suck in a breath. She felt another spike of panic hit her.

 _She was so far away from the surface_.

 _She was under feet of water and was being dragged further down._

 _She didn't know how to swim._

 _She was going to die. She was going to drown._

Clarke turned to her ankle, desperation pushing her to keep fighting for her freedom. She reached down and tried to yank her leg away.

She let out a scream when she seen what was holding her, air bubbles flying from her lungs and up to the surface. She recoiled quickly and kicked her leg wildly, begging to be free.

A single grey hand gripped onto her ankle, the long and yellow nails digging into her skin painfully. The skin of the hand was dead and decaying, with it already peeling back to reveal bone in several places.

 _It was a Capitol mutt._

Clarke thrashed wildly, kicking at the hand with her free foot. It only made it worse, as the claws on the mutt punctured her skin.

 _She was going to die._ She was already getting dizzy.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

She heard a faint splash above her, but she swore she was imagining it. She turned her head to look, her heart racing.

 _Bellamy._

She could see him swimming down towards her from the top of the pond, a knife clutched in his hand.

 _No._

She didn't think it was possible, but she was filled with even more fear at the sight of him. It felt like the same cold hand that clutched her foot was now holding onto her stomach, making her want to get sick.

 _No._ Don't come. Don't try to save her. _Don't die, too._

Then, she hit the bottom of the pond. Dirt flew up around her, obstructing the view of the bottom of the pond. Slime coated the bottom of her leg and ran up her back.

With new found strength, she reached for her leg to pull it free. As soon as she began to pull, another hand shot out from the dirt and latched on to her wrist.

Her ears were pounding from the pressure above her. Her lungs were burning. Every instinct in her was telling her to suck in air. _She was panicking._

She was going to drown.

Clarke pulled her wrist with as much strength as she could muster, feeling her skin tearing with the force. She could barely form any coherent thoughts, she was so close to passing out.

All she knew was fear, ice, and death.

Bellamy reached her at that point. She couldn't see the details of his face at all, not with the darkness that consumed the bottom of the pond. She tried to remember what he looked like. She wanted to think of something pleasant as she died.

He grasped her under her arms and pulled sharply upwards, kicking off the bottom of the pond. Just as she was sure she was going to be pulled free, several hands shot out of the mud and latched onto her, holding her down.

Dozens of dead hands were digging into her skin. Her mind was going foggy. She felt like her limbs were deadweight.

 _It wasn't working._

More and more hands shot out to grip onto her body, their nails digging into her skin like hooks. Bellamy tried pulling again, but she barely budged.

She knew the result of this situation. She knew she was going to die. _It was the only thing she did know._

 _Go. Bellamy, go._

She pushed at him weakly, trying to tell him to go. _Leave me,_ she begged. She felt herself barely holding on, but still, she pushed at Bellamy.

She didn't want him to die, especially not when he could save himself. She didn't want the hands to latch on to him too, keeping him from escaping. _Don't die, Bellamy. Not for me._

Black spots were appearing in front of her eyes. She was getting dizzier. She felt distant from her body, like she wasn't in control of her limbs anymore. Her lungs screamed in pain. She could see blood clouding the water from where the Capitol mutts had punctured her skin.

She felt lost and helpless in that moment – he wasn't leaving her. She was going to die down there, but she couldn't do anything to save him from the same fate.

Clarke couldn't tear her eyes away from his silhouette. She wanted the last thing that she seen to be something that she loved.

 _Maybe it was an okay way to leave the world, with Bellamy at her side._

Just as she was sure she was going to pass out, Clarke watched him lift the blade of his knife to the palm his hand and slashed, sending out a wave of blood.

The hands around Clarke instantly left her and began to move towards the new source of blood. Her eyes were fluttering closed already. She was fighting so hard to keep her lungs from filling with water and to stay awake.

Bellamy dropped the knife to the ground below them. He latched on to her middle, pulling her flush against him, and kicked with all his might off the bottom of the pond.

The claws unhooked from her skin and the hands lost their grip on her flesh. _She was free._ If she wasn't so close to dying, she would've been happier about that fact.

She fought hard to stay awake, _to stay alive_.

Bellamy kicked off the ground again, sending them shooting towards the surface, away from the danger.

As soon as they broke the surface, Clarke gasped for breath. She sputtered and coughed, her body desperate for air.

She clung to Bellamy's side as tightly as she could, not having the strength to keep herself above the water. He seemed to sense her exhaustion too, as he never untangled her from around him. In fact, his arm was the one keeping her against him and upright. Without him holding her, she was sure she would be falling below the surface again.

He swam them over to the edge of the pond and pulled her out of the water. Her chest was heaving as she gasped for breath. Her head was pounding and her legs felt like they had turned to jelly. She could barely feel her body; it felt like she was floating outside of her own skin.

Bellamy pulled her onto the grass, completely leaving the water and leaving the danger. He fell to the ground beside her as soon as she was relatively safe, his chest also heaving for air.

As soon as he was on the ground beside her, he reached for her. He wound his arms around her shaking body and pulled her close to him. She went willingly, reaching for him as well, needing the comfort and feeling of safety. Their legs tangled in each other's, keeping them locked together.

Bellamy fell backwards into the grass, pulling her with him. Her head landed on his chest, right above his racing heart. Her hair was sending water droplets onto his bare arm, and his curls were plastered to his forehead. She shook from both the lack of oxygen, the adrenaline, and the freezing temperatures.

He didn't let go of her for a long while. She never wanted him to let go, either.

 _She thought she was going to die._

He saved her. He came for her. He risked his own life to save hers.

 _She clung to him tighter._

Bellamy sat up after a minute and held her against his chest as tightly as his exhausted body could manage, wanting to feel for himself that she was okay. She locked her own hands behind his back, pulling herself closer.

She didn't think they could get closer even if they tried. Every inch of their bodies were plastered against each other. She could feel every curve of his muscle and every breath he took. Still, she _wanted_ to be closer to him. She wanted to be closer to him, even though it was physically possible, because it felt like she would fall apart if she wasn't.

She shivered again as a blast of cold air hit her. Her throat was tight, her lungs still burning, and her pulse still racing. She was on the verge of tears, the reality of the situation slowly sinking into her.

Without saying word, Bellamy unwrapped one arm from around her back and reached towards his clothes a few feet away. He snatched his jacket from his pile and pulled it towards them. He wrapped it around her shoulders.

She pulled away from his chest, watching him as his eyes raked over her body. He frowned deeper and pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin. _His arms felt safe._ She felt like she would be safe from anything, as long as she was with him.

She glanced down at her body and realized she was covered in scratches, some deeper than others. Several of them were pouring blood down her body, mixing with the water droplets on her skin.

"Shit," she swore as she jumped away. She was worried about bleeding on him. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't be." He kept his hands on her skin gently, like he was too afraid to let go of her. "Are you okay?"

"I will be, thanks to you."

She pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders and shivered when the air hit her again. Bellamy frowned and reached to his clothes pile again. He pulled his shirt and handed it to her.

"Take it for now," he said.

She didn't bother arguing. She slowly slipped off the jacket and pulled on the shirt. He took the jacket from the ground and wrapped it around her shoulders once again. She smiled softly at his actions.

She leaned forward, wanting desperately to be in his arms. He didn't hesitate with his movements. As soon as she was moving towards him, he was also moving towards her.

It was slowly hitting her what exactly happened.

 _She almost drowned. She almost died._

If Bellamy hadn't jumped in after her, she wouldn't have survived. Those mutts at the bottom of the pond wouldn't have let her go no matter what she did. The only reason she was able to get free was because he cut himself, distracting them long enough to escape.

She turned in his grasp, trying to get a look at his hand. She brought it to her face and examined it. He cut it a lot deeper than he needed to, making it bleed heavily. He wouldn't need stitches, but he would need it wrapped up. Finally, she leaned down and placed a small kiss to the inside of his wrist. She could feel him tense underneath her.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, her voice thick with emotion. "I wouldn't have…" She shook her head, trying to clear her muddled brain. "I wouldn't have survived if you hadn't jumped in after me. I… I…" She was at a complete loss of words.

"Shhh." He pressed a firm kiss to her temple, quieting her thoughts. "It's okay. You're okay."

His thumb was gentle as he rubbed soothing circles on her upper arm. She melted to his touch, too exhausted to do anything except clutch onto him. _She thought she was going to die._

An even more striking realization hit her. _She thought he was going to die._

Tears sprang to her eyes. She clutched him tighter, somehow finding more energy in her to do so. Bellamy let out a quiet grunt from her sudden burst of strength. She didn't say anything, but he understood. He pressed his nose against the top of her head, bringing his lips beside her skin.

"Together, right? We promised."

Those were the words that made her chest cave in. Tears were flowing freely down her chest.

"Never do that again," she sobbed. "Bellamy, I swear, if you die because of me…"

"If I die because of you, it would be because it is my choice." He reached up and brushed a few tears off of her face. "I'm with you, Clarke. We're in this together."

She cared so much about him, her heart ached. She let out a broken sob and nodded her head. "Together."

"We're both okay," he mumbled into her hair. She nodded again.

He was okay.

 _They were okay._

Still, almost as if to make sure, she didn't pull away from him. She wanted to feel his heart beat. She wanted to feel his breaths against her forehead. She wanted to feel his body heat along every inch of her own body.

When she finally pulled away, it was because she realized he was freezing. He had just swum in the freezing water, only to come out and sit in the howling wind. She pulled away from him and attempted tugged off his shirt.

Her hands were shaking so bad that she could barely take hold of the hem.

Bellamy's hands came out and rested on top of hers, steadying them. With his guidance, she tugged at them hem, pulling the shirt up and over her head.

"Bellamy, I-"

They both jumped as they heard the distinct sound of a canon.

* * *

 **CHAPTER WARNINGS: minor suggestive content, discussion on drowning, the inclusion and description of a Capitol mutt (which resembles a 'zombie'), blood.**

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Since this chapter is a little more suggestive than any of the other chapters so far, this is just a friendly reminder that both Clarke and Bellamy are 18 years old in this fic. (Although, I probably don't even need to put this little disclaimer, because this chapter and the rest of the fic includes only teen-rated content, but I feel like it's always good to disclose these things and to keep them in mind as a writer and a reader.)**

 **Also, I feel like I should be extra clear, but uhhhhhhhh nobody was naked. Hopefully this will make you laugh, but the phrase "Capitol issued underwear" was one I never thought I would be using.**

 **Here is a list of tributes remaining. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter (there are none for this chapter). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 8 Female: Charlotte  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thank you for reading. I'm really excited to see the reviews for this chapter, just because it was one I had so clear in my mind as I was writing.**

 **Comments and kudos are extremely appreciated!**

 **The next update will be posted on Tuesday!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Paw**


	31. Chapter 31: Nightmares and Daydreams

**I was tempted to split this into two chapters, just because it's balancing on the edge between 7000 and 8000 words (and I've been trying to keep the chapters below 6000 recently), but there wasn't a good place to split it.**

 **Warning: mentions of blood and injury**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 31: Nightmares and Daydreams**

* * *

 _Day 5 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke jumped away from Bellamy after hearing the sound of the canon. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment, before they were racing for their clothes.

"The others!" Clarke gasped out.

She stumbled towards her discarded clothing, her mind racing. She slipped the clothing back on, her body relaxing the slightest bit once it was out of the cold. She could feel the moisture from the pond pull the fabric of the clothes against her body, but she ignored the discomfort.

 _They had to get back to the building. They had to make sure the canon wasn't from their friends._

"Will you be okay to run?" Bellamy was pulling his arms through the jacket when he spoke to her next. "You're hurt."

"I'll be fine." She swung her backpack on and buckled the straps. "We have to go."

Together, they raced away from the pond filled with Capitol mutts, heading back to the building they left their friends in.

As they ran, Clarke couldn't help but think about the worst possible outcome. What if that canon belonged to one of her alliance members? What if the Careers had found them again?

It would be her fault – she left them alone, with barely any weapons, so she could gather food. Instead of hurrying back to them, they took time away to swim in a pond.

 _In which she almost died in,_ she reminded herself.

Still, she would be responsible for what happened. She would _always_ be responsible for them – that's what happened when she agreed to be leader. That's what happened when she gathered an alliance that would rival the Career's. She suddenly became responsible for those teenagers.

It wasn't just her that she had to look out for – it was Raven, Monty, Murphy, Lincoln, Octavia, Bellamy, Wells, and Charlotte. She had already failed two of them – she wasn't planning on failing any more. _She would protect them, no matter what._

As she ran, she felt sick. She was so willing to give up her life for theirs. She knew that she wouldn't be allowed to win the Games, no matter what. She still knew the secret about District 13. She still was willing to broadcast it across Panem. She had no regrets. _She was still dangerous._

They would never let her win.

 _But she could give everything – even her life – to make sure one of her friends won._ She could do that. She _would_ do that.

 _That canon could take all of that away._

She ran through the forest beside Bellamy so fast that the branches from the trees cut into her skin. They whipped across her face, causing her to wince and grit her teeth. The roots stuck up from the ground, making her leap out of the way milliseconds before they would've tripped her. She stumbled a few times, but Bellamy was beside her, ready to catch her elbow to steady her.

They weren't too far away from the city. By running for only ten minutes, they arrived at the outskirts of the field and the forest ground slowly turned to broken cobblestone. Despite wanting to be quiet, the need to get to their allies as quickly as possible overpowered that. Their feet slapped against the ground in their race across the city.

Clarke couldn't imagine what Bellamy was feeling. _She_ was terrified, and she had only known those people for two weeks. Octavia was up there – Bellamy's little sister; his whole words. She was the reason he was here. _He volunteered to protect her_. Now, they were racing to make sure she was still alive.

She could sense the panic inside of him. His eyes were widened and frantically scanning the surrounding buildings. Despite being scared out of his mind that the canon belonged to his sister, he was still cautious and aware of their surroundings.

They reached the building they began to call home and began their long climb up. Her legs were burning and her lungs felt like they were on fire as she climbed. Not only did Bellamy have much longer legs than her, allowing him to move further with each step, but she was still beyond exhausted from almost drowning, despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"Go!" She pushed his back lightly, nudging him up the stairs. He turned to look back at her, confusion on his face. "You can go faster. Go." He didn't leave her side.

"I'm not abandoning you, Clarke," he said fiercely. "If that canon was…" He struggled with the words. Her heart went out to him; this situation was impossible for him to be in. "If it was someone from the alliance, the killer wouldn't be too far away." _The killer._ Weren't they all killers? "We stick together." He turned away from her again, focusing completely on climbing.

They reached the tenth floor quicker than she thought possible. Her thighs burned and it felt like her knees were going to buckle. Bellamy pushed the door open as quickly as he could, his sword poised to swing.

 _He froze._

"What the hell, Blake!?"

Murphy's sharp voice cut the air like a knife. Bellamy blocked the room from Clarke, so she stood on her tip toes to peer in.

 _They were safe._

Murphy was standing with Bellamy's blade inches against his abdomen. Raven and Monty were fast asleep across the room and hadn't woken up by Bellamy's loud entrance. Lincoln sat beside Octavia, who was still awake, and stared at Bellamy, both looking terrified.

"Thank the gods!"

Octavia made a move to get up, but she didn't get far. She moved an inch before gasping through her teeth and falling back to the floor. Bellamy dropped his sword to the ground, all thoughts about fighting abandoned, and raced towards her. He dropped to his knees and pulled his sister into his arms.

"You're safe," he breathed, holding her tightly. Octavia rolled her eyes from his antics, but she reciprocated his hug. Even though she liked to play tough, Clarke could tell that she was terrified for Bellamy, too.

"We thought the canon might've been one of you," Clarke explained as she stepped in the room. She put her sword on the ground and swung off her backpack.

"We were worried it was one of you," Lincoln echoed. He was moving away from his position beside Octavia, giving the Blake siblings more privacy. "We thought – _holy hell._ Clarke, you're bleeding."

Murphy's head snapped towards her and Lincoln rushed the remaining distance between them. She looked down at her body and grimaced. Fresh blood from her wounds was spreading across her shirt. She knew her pants would've had the same markings, if they weren't black. That was one good thing about the colour; the blood from all the people she already killed was hidden by it.

"I'm fine," she reassured them both quickly.

She lifted up the bottom portion of her top, showing off the light scratches across her lower abdomen.

Murphy chocked on the air in his lungs. "Those look like they're from…" He glanced up at her, horror evident in his eyes. He lifted his hands and flexed his fingers.

Clarke pressed her lips together tightly. "Hands? That's because they are." Clarke flattened her shirt and moved further into the room.

"We had a run in with Capitol mutts," Bellamy added from the ground, his hand still resting on Octavia's shoulder. Octavia looked disgusted with what he said.

"What the hell happened out there?"

Bellamy glanced at Clarke briefly. Seeing that she was still pretty shaken from the events, he recounted what happened. "The pond a mile out of the city is filled with Capitol mutts. Rotting human hands drag you under the water, holding you down there until…" He didn't want to complete the sentence. She knew what he was thinking regardless of if he spoke or not. _They would hold you under water until you die._

"But I didn't die," she said, locking eyes with him. "I'm alive, thanks to you." She tried to convey her thanks through her eyes. She hoped Bellamy could read her as easily as she could read him. She seemed to have the desired effect, as he smiled softly in return.

They were all silent for a long moment. Finally, Murphy let out a breath of air. "I'm not even going to begin to think about why you were in the fucking water, or why your clothes aren't wet." Clarke managed to keep her blush off of her face.

"Murphy-"

He held up her hand. "Do whatever you want, princess. Who am I to judge?"

"Shut up, Murphy." Bellamy wasn't as impressed with his crude humor as he was.

"Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood _and_ not think about _what the fuck was in that water._ " He visibly shivered. "Rotting hands?"

"Dead, decaying human flesh." Clarke's jaw twitched and she closed her eyes, desperate to not think of it.

"Well, I'm never going to that shitty pond. I'd rather drink my own piss." Clarke cracked a smile at his poor attempt at lightening the room. Murphy was never the one to let the room sit in silence for too long.

"You guys bring up a good point," Lincoln said after a minute. "What if we _do_ get attacked while we're here? At the cave, we had somewhere to escape. Here, we're at the tallest point. We can't just run out of here."

"Leave it to me." Raven's voice was still heavy with sleep. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. "I'll think of a secondary route out of here, if we ever need it."

Clarke hoped with everything in her that they wouldn't need an escape plan.

 _But this was The Hunger Games._

They were constantly being hunted. They would never safe.

* * *

Clarke fiddled with a piece of paper between her fingers, her heart aching. The loopy hand writing scrawled across the front broke her heart to see. The paper had been folded so tightly that it could fit against the back of her dad's watch, allowing her to bring it into the arena.

 _It was a note from Wells._

He wrote it before they were put in the arena. She asked him to, so he could explain everything that happened. Back then, she wanted to know the reason why he betrayed her. _She needed to know._

He did what she asked. He wrote her a letter and left it on her pillow the night before the Games. She didn't read it then; she couldn't risk losing her focus the night before she was sent into the arena. So, she took it with her. When she went foraging with Octavia, she left it with Raven – she didn't want the watch or the letter to get wet from the rain.

 _Now, he was dead._

He was dead and this was the only thing she had left of him.

Part of her wanted to rip the note open, to read what he had written. She wanted to connect with him one last time, to hear his wisdom, to feel his love.

The other part of her said _not_ to open it. She was in pain from his death. She missed him beyond words. The biggest regret she had in her life was not forgiving him sooner, for not letting him explain himself. Did she really need to add more pain to her soul by reading his note?

 _Screw it._

She owed him this much. He sacrificed their friendship so that she wouldn't hate her mother. He risked his life for her. He _gave_ his life for her. He was dead because he was protecting their alliance. _He was dead because he volunteered to protect her._

She pushed back the tears and opened the letter in her hands. Her heart broke and she felt pain radiating to her finger tips as she glanced at his messy handwriting. _He would never get to write another word again._

This was his final letter.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and focused on the words on the page.

 _Dear Clarke,_

With those two words, her eyes burned and her throat grew tight. It hit her that she would never be able to listen to him again. She would never hear him say her name, and he would never get to write a letter. She wouldn't hear his voice _ever_ again or laugh beside him. She wouldn't spend another winter night wrapped up in a blanket beside him, looking into a fire and sharing stories.

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears away from her eyes. She couldn't cry – not now. She owed him to at least read his letter. _She promised him that she would read it._ The words couldn't swim in front of her eyes.

In a way, the letter was like a little piece of Wells' soul. Knowing that he wrote it for her to read made her feel like he was still with her, even just for a little bit. Holding his letter was like holding onto a piece of him. As soon as she read it, every new word that he put into the world would be gone. This letter contained the final few words that he could put out into the world.

 _She felt like this letter contained the final pieces of him._

She wiped at her eyes, taking away all of her tears. She couldn't waste these final few moments with Wells by crying. This was her last chance to be with him, in a way. She wasn't going to spend that time with blurry eyes.

As soon as her tears were cleared, she turned back to her letter.

 _Dear Clarke,_

 _I'm sorry._

 _Please give me the chance to explain. I know you don't think I deserve it. I understand. Please, Clarke, give me a moment to explain everything. You asked for the truth, and that's what I want to give you._

 _I did it all to protect you. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's the truth. Everything I did since the moment you told me what you found out, I did everything to protect you. I'm not just talking about the Games. I'm not talking about volunteering. I'm not._

 _I'm talking about before that._

There were several lines scratched out so deeply that she couldn't make out the words. It looked like he wrote several sentences, rethought what he wrote, and tried again. Over and over.

 _I wanted to tell you in person if it ever came to it. Actually, I never wanted to tell you at all. It's easier for you to hate me. It's the best way._

 _But you asked for the truth though, and you deserve that. Don't we all deserve the truth in life? That's what you were trying to do, wasn't it? Tell the truth?_

 _It wasn't me._

 _I kept my promise, Clarke. I promised you that night your secret would be safe with me and it was. I never lied to you then. I didn't tell anyone, and I would have rather died than betray your trust. You were my best friend. You are still my best friend._

 _I lied to you now, though. I told you that it was my fault. I told you that I was the one to tell the secret. I lied to protect you. I lied to keep you safe._

 _I knew you could hate me and still live your life. I know that you could lose me and still be okay. But your mom… She was all you had left. She was your family. I had to protect that. You needed her._

Clarke pulled the letter away from her face before any tears could fall on it and stain the pages. She didn't want the ink to run any more than it did from being in the heat and against her skin.

She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a sob.

 _'_ _I needed you, Wells. Even without her, I had you,'_ she thought.

 _All I know for certain is I made the right choice that day, and I'll stand by that until the moment I die. I would do anything to protect you, Clarke. I would do everything over again – even volunteering._

 _You're my best friend; I will always protect you. I just hope that, one day, you'll find it in yourself to forgive me for everything; for all the pain I've caused and all of the confusion I've given you. I know I should've been truthful, but I couldn't cause you more pain when you were hurting. I couldn't._

 _And, if I know you (which I sure as hell do), I know you'll be in pain right now. You will probably regret hating me. You'll regret that I volunteered and you didn't listen to what I had to say. I know you, Clarke, and I know you'll have regrets. You'll wish you could change our past._

 _But, I don't. I wanted you to hate me, because that meant you still loved your mom. Of course, I wanted you to trust me, and, of course, I wanted to be friends with you again, but I would sacrifice that over and over again, if it meant you didn't have to know the truth._

 _I volunteered because I love you. You're my best friend; my sister. I volunteered because you deserved the truth, and because I wanted to support you in anyway you needed. Don't regret my choices. I know I don't._

 _And, Clarke? I'll always forgive you. If you need forgiveness, I will always give it to you._

 _Wells_

Clarke stared at his name at the bottom of the letter for what felt like hours. She couldn't be sure how much time had passed. All she felt was _guilt_ crashing into her, over and over. She lost him.

 _He was gone._

The last half of his letter allowed peace to settle into her heart. Somehow, it didn't hurt as much as it did before. Somehow, knowing that he knew what she would be thinking, and him reassuring her, provided a calmness to her.

 _He didn't blame her. He forgave her._

Her heart ached. He didn't deserve to die.

Wells did everything to protect her, ever since the moment she told him about District 13. She remembered his words clearly that day. _"I won't tell another soul. I swear."_

He promised her that he would protect her, always. The day her father died, he was the only one to stick by her side and hold her as she cried. _Her mother had left her. Her father was murdered._

He was her only family.

And he thought she didn't need him. He thought that she needed her mother more than she needed him – her best friend, her brother, her whole world. He was the biggest support in her life, and he gave that all away so she could live with the peace of ignorance.

Her chest screamed in pain. He didn't think that she cared about him just as much as he cared about her. He always said that they were family and _she agreed._ Even when their own families were disasters and falling apart, they always had each other.

Why would he think that she would chose her mother over him?

 _It was not easier to lose her best friend._ It still hurt like hell.

 _And now he was truly gone._

The feeling of regret and loss overwhelmed her. He was her family and _he was gone._ He died not know where they stood.

She regretted every moment she resented him, even though he told her not too. His words and reassurances eased the guilt, but she wished things were different. She wished that she could've taken back every harsh glance she set his way or any words filled with venom. She wished that when they met on the train, she could've just let go of her assumptions and let him explain like he wanted to.

She imagined that day would've gone differently. Their whole time in the Games would've been different.

 _"_ _I need to talk to you," he said as he walked up beside her._

 _She remembered how he sounded that day. He thought that his voice was hard and cold, but really it wasn't. He was determined and fierce. She heard that voice before, right after he found out another boy in their class was being bullied by a group of boys. He went into protective mode, determined to fight._

 _Instead of glaring at him, she turned to him and stared into his eyes. She always could read him – ever since they were young. He was terrible at lying in general, but especially to her. She looked into his eyes – peered into his soul – and she seen his desperation._

 _"_ _Why?" Instead of the ice that filled her voice before, she only sounded curious._

 _Wells stepped towards her, his palms facing the sky. A sorrowful look passed across his face._

 _"_ _I'm sorry." She could hear the true pain in his voice. She could see the truth in his eyes. He was sorry. He regretted whatever he did._

 _"_ _Why did you do it?" Her voice broke along with her heart. Instead of anger overwhelming her, it was sorrow. In her mind, at the time, he was the cause of all her pain in her life. He caused her father to be murdered and her to be sent to die. "Why?"_

 _He looked at her longer than anyone ever had before. She could see a war raging inside of him, tearing his heart apart. "I kept my promise, Clarke." His voice was even and pleading. She was struck by how genuine his voice sounded. "I… I…" He struggled to tell her the truth. He hated lying, but he also hated having to hurt Clarke. He was torn to tell her the truth or to keep her safe._

 _"_ _Wells. Tell me." She could almost feel his presence beside her, like he was a ghost. She could have sworn he was beside her in that moment. He was torn – she could see it in him. She was getting desperate too. "Please, Wells." Her chin trembled with emotion. "I need the truth."_

 _"_ _It wasn't me, Clarke." She was shocked into silence. Her mouth clamped shut. "I kept my promise to you. I never told anyone. I never told my dad."_

 _She shook her head, completely in denial. "It had to have been… You were the only one…"_

 _She stumbled backwards like she had been punched, her back hitting the mirrored wall. Wells didn't move after her to chase her. He knew that she needed a second to compose herself. She needed to figure it out by herself. Her mouth grew dry as the world came crashing down around her._

 _It wasn't her. It wasn't her dad. If it wasn't Wells, that only left one other person._

 _"_ _My mom…" He looked at her, his face twisted in pain. "Wells, please. Was it my mom?" Her voice was rising now, on the brink of hysteria._

 _"_ _I don't know, Clarke." She could sense it in him. He was telling the truth. He didn't know. His shoulders slumped forward and he looked tired. "I don't know what happened." He stepped towards her, his arms stretched towards her. "One moment, I was trying to figure out how we could broadcast the signal further, and the next, my house was filled with Peacekeepers. They were there to see my dad, to get the final order to arrest your dad." Wells rubbed his fingers over his face. It looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. "As soon as I realized what was happening, I tried to leave. I tried to get to you."_

 _"_ _The Peacekeepers beat you there," Clarke said, her voice shaking as she remembered that day._

 _The Peacekeepers had ripped her from her bed and threw her into the living space with her parents. Only after Jake had been dragged from the house did Wells come flying in. She remembered how wild his eyes were and his loud he was panting. He must've run all the way from his house to get to her._

 _"_ _I tried." His voice broke and he stepped towards her. "I tried, Clarke. I should've been there for you."_

 _"_ _You were." Her voice was strong._

 _If anything, Wells was the only person there for her that day. She would never let him believe that he failed that day._

 _She walked the rest of the way to him, stepping into his arms. She could feel his warm embrace wrap around her, pulling her to his chest. It was familiar, yet so foreign. She hadn't been hugged in a year. "Wells, I'm so sorry. I-"_

"Wake up." She was jolted awake by a hand on her shoulder. She let out a startled gasp and began fumbling for her sword hilt beside her. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes. "Whoa. Hey. It's just me." Clarke squinted her eyes to see who was talking to her. Raven stood above her, a concerned look on her face. Her gaze dropped to Clarke's hand.

"Raven?" She still looked at her hand uneasily. Clarke realized she was still grasping onto the hilt of her sword. Immediately, she dropped her weapon. "What… What's going on?"

She looked awkward. She wasn't exactly pitying, but Clarke could feel her shared sorrow. "You were talking in your sleep." Raven adverted her eyes. "You were calling for him." Clarke's stomach twisted around and she felt her heart plummet with her words. "Wells."

 _It was just a dream._

A cold like no other seeped into her bones. She could feel the pain curling into her veins, working its way to her heart.

 _Wells was dead._

"I thought I should wake you. I know how bad dreams can get. Even if they're good ones, it's always worse when you wake up." Raven slid down the wall so she could sit beside Clarke. The blonde girl curled her hands into fists and sucked in several deep breaths, trying to keep her nausea at bay. She quickly wiped away the wetness from her face. She didn't even realize she was crying. Raven surveyed her. "You okay?"

"Fine." They both knew she was lying, but neither of them spoke about it. Wells was dead. He was gone. _The dreams and the nightmares were part of it_. She would always have regrets and wishes. "What was I saying?"

"You were crying and calling for him. You kept saying how sorry you were. How he was enough for you." Raven sighed and rubbed her forehead. She looked guilty. "I'm sorry – I should've have been listening. I was just on watch and I heard you crying and…"

"You thought something was wrong," Clarke concluded with a sharp nod. She forced out a smile and begged herself not to cry. "I know. I get it. It's fine."

Her heart ached. For the briefest moment, she felt like Wells was still with her. She felt like they were truly back at the train station before the Games. She felt like she could've fixed things.

 _It was a dream. He was dead._

 _It gave her the after-effects of a nightmare._

Clarke tried to get her mind off of her dream and away from her pain. She glanced around the room. It was a little past sunset. The room was mostly dark, but still had a faint tone of orange from the sun. The air was already becoming chilly, but it was nothing like the night got.

Bellamy was across the room, slumped beside Octavia. They were both fast asleep and looked peaceful. His hand that he cut in the pond was wrapped poorly with a cut piece of cloth from his shirt. She felt bad that she fell asleep before she could wrap it for him.

Lincoln wasn't too far away from them, also fast asleep. Murphy was asleep across the room, the hood of his jacket already pulled tightly around his head. The only person missing was Monty, but she assumed he was on watch. Both him and Raven were scheduled to be on until sunset.

Raven squeezed Clarke, bringing her back to their conversation. "I understand bad dreams and how good dreams can be bad dreams. I've had them for years. About my mom, about the people I love. That's all I'm getting at." Clarke smiled at the girl and squeezed her shoulders.

"You're not alone," Lincoln muttered quietly. Clarke never realized he was up and she jumped. His smile was thin. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Raven snorted. "We're talking in a large room. You weren't eavesdropping."

"You have nightmares too?" Clarke prompted. Lincoln shifted into a sitting position. He looked exhausted; his shoulders were slumped and his eyes were barely open.

"Of my sisters. My family." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. She heard his back crack _._ "They're all alone now, you know? If I don't get home, they'll struggle just to make it by. I dream of it _. Of them_. Struggling."

"At least you had a family," Murphy said sourly from the floor. Clarke didn't jump this time. Her eyes swept over to him. "I've got nothing. Nobody."

Lincoln lifted her eyebrow. "No parents?"

Murphy stared at him for a long moment. He glanced over to Raven, who gave him a nod of encouragement. Clarke assumed she must already know his life history. They sure as hell spent enough time together for their stories to already be told.

"My dad tried to steal medicine for me when I was sick. I was young, things weren't looking good. He was desperate." Murphy chuckled darkly. "He didn't even steal the right medicine, but it didn't matter. The deed was done. He was caught and killed." His face was grim. "My mom blamed me for that. Got involved with the wrong crowd. She died when I was ten."

"Shit."

Raven sighed. "Murphy and I in the same boat about parents." It wasn't Murphy's turn to nod. Her head tilted back to rest against the wall, her eyes locked on the ceiling. "I never knew my dad. I doubt my mom even knew who he was. And my mom was involved with the wrong people. She died when I was twelve – just a week before my first reaping. The Collins family took me in."

"Are we all discussing our terrible family lives?" Octavia's voice was groggy as she woke out of sleep.

"For the record, I never said my family was terrible," Lincoln pointed out. "I love my family."

"Same here!" Monty called from the hallway.

Murphy pushed back his hood and leaned forward, completely undeterred by Lincoln and Monty. "Okay, little Blake. _Dish_. What's so bad about Career life?"

Octavia shot Murphy a dirty look. "Listen here, cockroach, you can suck my-"

"Octavia!" Bellamy interjected. Even though he was trying to sound harsh, Clarke could clearly hear the smile in his voice. She had to hide her own smile behind her hands.

Octavia had enough fire in her to keep Murphy on his toes. Clarke knew that if Raven hadn't gotten close with him, her relationship with Murphy would've been the same. Even still, they were accepting of each other, but they still liked to banter.

"Fine. I'll play nice." She turned back to the rest of the group, her face as serious as the rest of theirs. "Bellamy raised me since I was born, practically." She glanced at Bellamy before continuing. "He never knew his dad and we never knew mine. It was just us and our mom. She tried her best, but it's hard to provide for all of us. Bellamy watched me and took care of me for the most part. And when she passed away, Bellamy was fully in charge of me."

"I think I remember you mentioning that during your interview," Raven commented. Her smile was only partial. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention. I was right after Bellamy."

Octavia smirked. "It's all good. I didn't pay attention to yours either." Raven snorted at that. "I'm thankful I grew up with the opportunities that I did, and I know I am at an advantage because of the district I grew up in. But things were hard in a different way, I suppose. Mom was gone, dad was non-existent, Bellamy was run off his feet."

"And Bellamy, you had to practically adopt a child when you were 17," Raven pointed out. "That's… _hard._ "

"He sacrificed everything," Octavia spoke before Bellamy could interrupt and be modest. "He gave up going to the academy so he could get a job and put me through school. I'm so thankful for you, big brother." Bellamy's smile was tight.

Murphy blew out some air between his teeth. "I guess Panem sucks anywhere you go," he muttered. His eyes turned to Clarke. "What about you, princess? Any family problems?" She pressed her lips together tightly.

 _Her dad was murdered by the Capitol._

 _She was arrested because she knew a secret she shouldn't have._

 _Her mother was the one to turn in her father._

 _She blamed the only person who had ever been there for her._

"My dad died last year," she said simply, even though she wanted to say so much more.

Raven squeezed her shoulders a little tighter. "The train accident, right? It was all over the news…"

Clarke nodded her head, but she wanted to scream that _no, it wasn't an accident._ She stayed silent.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Other than that, I've had a normal life." _Other than my mom betraying me and my dad. Other than spending the last year in lock-up. Other than knowing a secret that could bring the Capitol to their knees._ "You know, Wells was like my brother. We grew up together." Nobody said anything. His death was still weighing heavily on everyone's minds. "Our parents were friends, so we were friends since the day we were born. We did everything together. He was my family, too."

"I guess we all have issues with our families, huh?" Murphy muttered. He rested his head against the wall. He smirked and Clarke was glad he could at least find humor in it all. "Shit. Panem sucks."

"Watch what you say, Murphy," Monty warned from the hallway. "They're watching."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know." When nobody said anything, he pulled his hood back up around his ears. "Well, if that's all the sad stories we're going to share for the night, I'm headed back to sleep. Who's on watch?"

"Bellamy and I are," Clarke said, but Murphy already wasn't paying attention. His hood was pulled tightly against his ears and his eyes were shut. She snorted lightly and turned to the girl beside her. "Thanks, Raven." _For waking her up, for comforting her, for being her family_. There were so many things to be grateful over. "For everything."

"Don't mention it." Clarke smiled widely at her friend before climbing off of the floor.

"Get some sleep." Raven didn't protest. She had been on watch for hours. Instead, she nodded her head sleepily and pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders.

Monty walked in from where he sat on the staircase, a knife in his hand. He nodded to her and slid down the wall to sit by Raven. Clarke turned around, glancing at her friends scattered throughout the room. She felt a smile spread across her face as she did so.

 _She loved them._

She never would have thought that she would begin to love anybody while in the Games. They were all fighting for their lives and only one of them could come out. It was irrational to befriend anyone in the arena – they would only ever leave her and hurt her.

 _But she did._

"You ready?" Bellamy was beside her, his sword in hand. She nodded her head and followed him out of the room.

They walked down the small hallway and sat down on the descending stairs. Their shoulders pressed together tightly as they both squished onto the same step. Bellamy let out a breath of air, sort of like a chuckle, and lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

"You are always warm," Clarke commented as she leaned into his side more. She sighed contentedly and relaxed her shoulders. The arena was beyond cold at the night time. As soon as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, all of the heat in the arena went with it. It didn't help that it was raining outside and had been for days on end. "I wish you could just be my personal heater."

"Mmm, I wouldn't mind that either," Bellamy mumbled. Clarke smiled softly and rested her head on his shoulder. She turned her head to look out the small window across from them in the wall. The orange in the sky was slowly bleeding away, leaving behind only silver from the moon. The anthem would be starting any minute.

Her smile fell and her muscles tensed back up.

 _She would be seeing Wells in the sky that night._

Almost like he sensed her sudden change in moods, Bellamy gently squeezed her shoulder where his hand rested, almost as if to say _I'm here._

"He was a good man," Bellamy commented after a long moment. Clarke nodded her head minutely. She couldn't find the words to speak anymore, her heart too heavy. While sleep had helped the tiniest bit – it made the events from earlier that day seem so long ago – it also brought her regrets crashing down full force. "I didn't know him well at all – we spent probably a day together. But I can tell through you that he was a good man."

"He was," Clarke said, her voice hoarse. She barely noticed when a few tears slipped from her eyes.

"Yeah, I know." Bellamy grew silent for a moment. Then, he said, "remember when we first trained together? He was so pissed."

Clarke cracked a small smile at that memory. "He wanted to protect me," she recalled. "He tried to fight you behind the training ring."

"I could tell from that moment, he cared about you as much as I care about Octavia," he said. Clarke felt every word on the tip of her tongue drain out of her. She was at a loss for words with his admission. "He was here to fight for you, the same as I was with her. I just wish that we could've had more time together. I think we would've gotten along."

"I think so too," Clarke agreed. She couldn't help but smile slightly, the image of Bellamy and Wells together.

She thought back to the cave a few days ago, when they first stumbled upon Bellamy and Octavia. Octavia was seconds away from death. Wells and her worked well together to operate on her, with Bellamy's help. She thought back to how he jumped in front of Murphy and Lincoln to protect Bellamy, just because she trusted him.

She remembered how _he_ was the one to give her that final push over the edge, encouraging her to throw all caution to the wind _and live for one final moment._ Even though Bellamy didn't know Wells well, it was because of him that she allowed herself to fall. It was because of Wells that she agreed to open up her heart and to live without reservations.

 _"_ _If we can't love now, when can we love? We only have a few days left. What's the point of locking yourself away from him? What's the point in denying how you feel for him?"_ She remembered his face so clearly, like it was etched into her mind. She hoped it stayed there forever. He was so determined to make her see what he seen in them. He was so determined to make her put her fears aside.

 _"_ _I can't let myself fall any more for him. I can't. Because he'll die, or I'll die. And then what? It'll all be for nothing."_ Her words still rang true. She was beyond terrified to let herself fall for the man beside her. She knew her heart would only be broken, no matter what happened. He died, she died… It all resulted in the same. They would never get a happy ending.

 _"_ _Love is never worth nothing. Love is the reason why we fight. Love is the reason why we survive. Without love, we have nothing. Don't be afraid to love, Clarke. These are our final days, Clarke. Why deny ourselves the simple pleasures?"_

The anthem started up, startling Clarke out of her thoughts. Her eyes snapped to the window and locked onto the sky, waiting with baited breath for the fallen tributes of the day to be broadcast across the sky.

 _This would be last time she would see Wells._ It made her heart ache.

The first tribute in the sky was Wells. Her heart leapt to her throat at his picture and she clamoured to her feet, desperate to get a better glance at him. She examined his picture that hung in the sky, her eyes refusing to water the slightest bit. His jaw was set and his mouth determined. He looked like he was ready to fight anyone that got in his way. _But his eyes._ His eyes radiated warmth and kindness. _That_ was the Wells she knew.

His picture was gone entirely too quick, leaving Clarke feeling numb and empty. Before she could process how she felt, the next picture hung in the sky.

 _Charlotte._

Bellamy was at her side at this, standing to get a better look out the window. His jaw was slack and his hands balled into fists at his side.

Waves of emotion crashed into Clarke. She was conflicted – more so than she could've imagined being. Her first instinct was to feel _hate_ for the girl. She killed Wells. It was her that slit his throat as he kept them safe. After everything they did for her, she betrayed them. She was a monster.

 _But she was a child._

She was a child forced to do what she did. She was reaped and forced to come to the Games – forced to fight for her life. How could she be blamed entirely for her actions? If it weren't for the Capitol, she never would have been put in that position.

The next face was the male tribute from District 9. Bellamy muttered his name when he appeared in the sky. Apparently, he was named Ilian.

She didn't remember much about him. She partially remembered him from the reaping tapes they watched. She remembered he was angry and looked dangerous. How did he end up fighting alongside the Careers? How did she miss _that_ alliance?

The sky went black, leaving Bellamy and Clarke to stand in darkness once again. Her chest heaved as she thought about the two alliance members that died that day. _Wells and Charlotte._

"I wonder how she died," she wondered out loud. She stumbled backwards again and tumbled to the step. Bellamy sat down beside her once more, wrapping his arm around her. She leaned into his side, her body feeling completely numb. She knew she should've been feeling something. _She knew that she should have felt grief or anger._ But she didn't. In that moment, she just felt empty.

She felt like everything in her life had been taken away; her father, her voice, her freedom, her life. Now, they were taking her emotions.

 _She wasn't shocked._

The Capitol would keep on taking until there was nothing left. _Look at Wells and Charlotte._ The Capitol took them. _They would take all of the children, until there was nothing left._

"Do you think she had that planned all along?" Bellamy asked, breaking Clarke from her thoughts. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought it over.

If Charlotte had planned her attack all along, that meant she wasn't as good as a judge of people as she thought she was. That meant she invited a killer into her alliance, helped trained her, and protected her when she didn't need it. It meant every moment with the girl had been a lie. _She couldn't handle that._

"No," she said strongly. "I don't think we'd ever be able to say for certain, but I couldn't handle it if she always planned to kill someone on the alliance. I brought her into the alliance. I trained her. I got everyone to trust her."

"I did the same thing," Bellamy reminded her. "I always thought that she needed protection. It never occurred that she was the thing that someone innocent would need protection from." Clarke sighed and leaned the back of her head against Bellamy's arm.

They would always have questions. She hoped that they both lived long enough to have them answered.

* * *

 **These last few chapters have been really great to edit. Usually I spend hours editing, but, the further I get into the fic, the less time I have to spend editing. I'm currently chalking that up to the fact I spent more time writing these later chapters, so they're already a little more fleshed out to begin with.**

 **RIP Charlotte. I haven't talked much about her characterization, but I just wanted to mention it now, since this is her official last chapter. It was difficult for me to decide what to do and I stuck close to canon, but MAN did I ever want to write her for the rest of the fic.**

 **Also, I really tried to make it clear that she isn't evil. Just like how she was portrayed in the show. She felt forced by the Capitol to be a tribute (and a "proper" tribute), as do many tributes, I'm sure, which is why she did what she did. Although, she didn't kill Wells because of his family in this fic.**

 **Here is a list of tributes remaining. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter (or, in this case, are the characters that were announced as dead if we didn't already know about their deaths). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
 **District 8 Female: Charlotte** **  
**District 10 Male: Dax

 **Also, to clarify, the canon at the end of last chapter/the start of this chapter was Charlotte. The death I imagined for her was that she ran into the Careers while she was escaping the cave in chapter 26/chapter 27. While they didn't kill her then, she was injured, and managed to escape, only to die from those injuries later.**

 **Thanks for reading. The next update will be on Thursday.**

 **Reviews are appreciated!**


	32. Chapter 32: If Only

**This comes in at just around 10,000 words. I had it split for a few days when I originally went through the fic to break up long chapters, but it felt too awkward when I was doing edits, so I put it back HAHA.**

 **I hope you enjoy some major Bellarke fluff in this chapter!**

 **Warnings; coarse language, mentions of sexual themes**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 32: If Only**

* * *

 _Day 6 in the arena_

* * *

After being on watch all night with Bellamy, Clarke slept for most of the next day. She was glad that nothing was happening around them – it meant she got to sleep more and relax some – but it also made her worried. If the Careers weren't hunting them, where were they? Where were the other tributes?

She tried to keep those thoughts out of her head as much as possible. She didn't want to worry about something she didn't have control over. For now, she promised herself she would try to relish the silence as much as possible. When something happened, they would deal with it then. There was no use worrying about it before it happened.

Clarke also promised herself to push Wells out of her mind. As much as it pained her to do so, she had to do it to survive.

It was something she was used to doing – pushing something away. She had done it when her dad was murdered. To survive and ensure her safety, she couldn't mourn him. She couldn't let herself get overwhelmed by grief and sorrow. She had to keep her mind sharp and she had to be one step ahead of the Capitol, as much as possible.

She was used to pushing her emotions away to survive. Still, the pain hung over her like a cloud on a rainy day. With every beat of her heart, she felt it fill with pain.

 _He was gone and he was never coming back. She never told him how she felt about their friendship, nor how thankful she was to have him in her life. She never worked to earn his forgiveness for hating him for a year for something he never did._

He was her best friend – her brother – and now he was gone. It was hard to wrap her head around it, and it was even harder to push away.

 _But she had to._

She told herself that this would be what Wells wanted. He wouldn't want her to be absorbed with her pain. If she knew him at all, she thought that he would feel bad she was in pain from him – _period_. She knew he would want her to push off her grief and her pain until she was safe – until she had won the Games. Right then, it was too dangerous to become absorbed in mourning and grief.

 _She had to focus on surviving._

 _And the simple pleasures._

Even though she knew that pushing away her emotions was the only way she could survive, she also heard the little voice in her head screaming at her to enjoy the simple pleasures.

 _Actually,_ it wasn't her voice in her head.

 _It was Wells._

He was the one to tell her to savour the little things in life; to not forget about the simple pleasures. He told her that love was the thing to keep people going. Without love, all was lost.

 _So, she didn't push away her emotions._

Instead, she buried her pain behind her drive for survival and her love she felt for her companions. She focused on the little joys in her life – like Murphy's jokes, or the way Lincoln spoke about his sisters, or how well Octavia's wound was healing, or how Monty and Raven had so many inside jokes, or how well her head fit into Bellamy's shoulder.

She couldn't allow herself the luxury of mourning. To survive, she had to keep going. The best way to do that was to find light in the darkness – to find peace amongst the chaos.

When she woke up, it was already late into the evening of day six. The room was illuminated dark orange and the air had a chill to it. The sun was just dipping below the horizon and the moon was rising to take its place.

The first thing Clarke noticed was that Raven was crying. Murphy was the only other tribute awake and he hovered by her. While she knew he wasn't a person who particularly enjoyed physical contact, she could see the sides of their legs pressed together, and his one foot kept bumping hers.

"He's shit," Murphy said, his voice low. "You deserve better."

Clarke was confused. What was going on? Why was Raven crying?

"I know." She snorted. "Fuck. I can't believe it." The two of them were silent for a long moment. "Actually, I can. _Fuck him._ "

Murphy made a sound of approval. "Yeah. Fuck him."

Clarke was even more confused than before. Did something happen with her and Bellamy? Or Lincoln? Monty?

"I should have known," she growled. Clarke could sense both sadness and anger in her. "I just wish I knew sooner so I could give him a piece of my mind. I'm stuck in here. I can't even yell at him."

 _Oh._ Something happened between her and someone outside of the arena? That didn't make a lot of sense either.

When she next spoke, her voice lost some of the anger. She sounded defeated. "He's such an ass."

"You're a fucking queen, Raven," he said. "You deserve better than him. You deserve someone who _treats_ you like the queen you are. You deserve someone to appreciate you for all that you are; a genius, kind, hilarious, and only annoying half of the time."

Raven snorted. "If I'm a queen, who's gonna be my king?"

"Huh. Don't know. I hear those are in short supply these days." Raven laughed at that.

It was nice to hear her laughing so soon after crying. Trust it was Murphy making her laugh. That was one thing Murphy was able to do; he was able to bring out the best in everyone, especially Raven. It was strange to think about how far the two of them had come since the beginning of the Games.

"I think I know one or two," she commented lightly. "And a cockroach. Can a cockroach be a king? Do you, like, have your own kingdom and shit?"

Clarke tried to pretend Raven didn't just call Murphy a king seconds after saying she needs a king. She was confused by this whole situation, but this moment between the two of them sounded more friendly than she'd ever heard them before.

Sure, they'd bantered and joked and spent a lot of time together, but this was different. It was softer, even if their words were sharp. They were comforting each other – about what, she wasn't sure.

He made a sound of approval. "Definitely a kingdom. I'd be the King Bee."

"King Bitch."

He snorted. "I'm not even offended by that assessment." He was silent for a moment. "You know, Rae, you're really-"

Clarke felt like she really shouldn't be listening to this conversation anymore. She quickly climbed up from the floor and feigned a yawn. As she stretched, Murphy and Raven both fell silent.

"You're up," Raven commented, her tone different than the one she used only seconds before. "Good. I need a girl to rant to."

"I'm not good enough for you, Reyes?"

"Clarke will be a little more sensitive and _not_ encourage me to murder someone."

He looked mildly offended. "I can be sensitive."

Raven rolled her eyes and climbed up from the floor. Clarke could tell they were joking with each other, but, still she felt like she would never understand the two of them.

"Everything okay?" Clarke asked. Raven moved the few feet across the room to her before dropping down. "You look upset."

"I'm not as upset as before," she admitted. Her eyes flicked to the doorway. "Monty and Bellamy are on watch, by the way."

Clarke found this interesting. Monty and Raven were supposed to be on watch for another hour or so. What happened while she slept?

She didn't have to wait too long for answers. Raven puffed out her cheeks and lounged beside her, clearly dwelling on her thoughts. Finally, she flicked her eyes towards Clarke. "My boyfriend cheated on me."

Clarke recoiled. She wasn't expecting _that._ "What?"

"Dick." Murphy decided to give his sensitive opinion from across the room. Raven tried to fight off her smirk.

"He's not wrong," Clarke agreed. Raven looked mildly surprised at Clarke's statement. "He cheated on you? Dick." Her tone softened. "What happened? How did you find out?"

"Monty told me," she admitted. Her smile fell off her face. She looked pained. "On watch tonight. He said me he needed to tell me something. Apparently he found out right before the reapings. When we were reaped, Finn visited him and made him promise not to say anything to me."

Clarke was disgusted by this. It reminded her too much of Jaha coming to visit her when she left, begging her to do one last thing for him. _They_ were the ones about to die – why did they have to give more of themselves for the people left at home to survive?

She had cool rage boiling in her. She managed to keep her face even. "That's terrible."

Raven agreed. "Monty didn't want to tell me because he didn't want to hurt me. We were both reaped. We were sent here to die. We needed to be focused and have our minds sharp – not be distracted by shitty boys back home." She glanced wearily at Clarke. "He told me because of Wells, though."

Her heart stopped when she heard his name. "Wells?" What did he have to do with it? Her mouth ran dry and she felt a sharp jolt of pain in her chest.

 _Don't think about him. Don't think._ She tried to keep him out of her mind.

"You and Wells worked things out in the arena. You two talked about telling the truth to each other a lot. We don't know what happened between you too – and I'm not asking, I'm really not, it's your story – but we know something happened. You guys talked and worked through a miscommunication of sorts, right?"

Clarke sometimes forgot how smart and perceptive both Raven and Monty were. Her mouth felt dry when she spoke. "Right."

"Monty decided that he wanted to tell me the truth. He didn't want to keep secrets from me, even if the truth would hurt me." Clarke couldn't tell if she was in pain or just discomfort as she spoke. "I'm glad. I'd rather get hurt and know the truth than live in a lie, no matter how good it was."

Raven was choosing truth over comfort. She was refusing to wear a blindfold on her life; ignoring all the negative parts, choosing only to see the good things.

It reminded her of her father. He said this was what humanity would choose. He said that they needed to know the truth; that people would rather know the truth than live in a fake world.

"I'm sorry," Clarke told her. "Nobody deserves that."

Raven grimaced. "Yeah."

"Especially not here, where things are already going so wrong." Clarke squeezed Raven's hand. "This sucks."

"Thanks, Clarke." She sighed. "I should've known something was going on. He was acting distant for the last few months. I just kept telling myself it was because I was busy, or it was because he was stressed. We'd been growing distant for a long time."

"Still no excuse to cheat," Murphy pointed out.

"Oh, I agree. He's an ass. I wish he had the balls to tell me himself." She chewed on her lip. "I thought I'd be more upset about this." Clarke wasn't sure what to say, so she remained quiet. "Maybe I knew for a while. Maybe I just didn't want to believe it." She lifted her chin. "I'm angry still. _So fucking angry._ But… I feel like this isn't as shocking as it should have been."

Clarke didn't know what else to say. "I'm really sorry, Raven. You don't deserve that. You deserve someone better."

"That's what I told her," Murphy pointed out. "She deserves someone worth _twenty_ of Fuck Boy Flynn."

"Finn," Raven corrected quickly.

Murphy lifted his eyebrows. "Sorry. Don't know who that is. I only know one Fuck Boy Flynn." Raven let out a genuine laugh at that.

"He's such an ass," she said, still laughing. "Gods, I wish I could yell at him. Tell him how fucked up cheating is and how fucked up he is. Then, I'd dump his sorry ass and never look back."

Murphy spoke up. "We should still yell at him. Maybe the Capitol would be so kind and broadcast us screaming at him. I'm sure that would be good for views."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Murphy was more convinced now, even though Raven looked confused. "Yeah. Yeah, let's have a yelling party. Out in the woods, or somewhere ominous. What's a spookier word for woods?"

"Do the woods in the arena _need_ to have a spookier name?" Clarke asked. "They're pretty terrifying on their own."

"Good point." He turned back to Raven. "We can scream. Stab a few trees and pretend it's him. You could dump him too." He chuckled. "On live television. That's a terrible fate he deserves."

"First of all, I already told you I'm not murdering him, or _pretending_ to murder him," Raven pointed out, clearly amused with his solution. "Secondly, you're damn right." Her voice become more determined. "Him being exposed on television that broadcasts across Panem _is_ what he deserves. I just hope they're showing this right now."

Murphy clapped his hands together, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "Perfect. You want to go to the woods now or in the morning?"

Raven was already climbing up from the floor. "Easy answer. I want to go right now." She turned her face towards the ceiling. "Finn Collins, consider this me breaking up with you. Gods, you're such an ass."

Murphy was standing beside her now. He looked at the ceiling. "Yeah, you ass. Have fun with your hands." Clarke choked on her spit. He glanced at her, a cocky smile on his face. "You coming to our yelling party?"

"Tempting, but no." She also climbed up from where she was sitting. "I'm on watch with Bell now."

She wanted to tell them _not_ to go to the woods. She wanted to remind them that they were surrounded by people who wanted to kill them. _Maybe screaming in the middle of the forest wasn't such a great idea._

But, she seen how excited Raven looked at the prospect of letting of some steam and the words died in her throat. They were both smart and could handle themselves, couldn't they?

"Be safe?"

"Of course."

With that, the two of them left with knives in their hands. Clarke trailed after them, heading to where she knew Monty and Bellamy would be sitting on watch. Just as she expected, the two of them were sitting on the descending stairs.

When Monty caught sight of Raven, he stood up. His hands were buried deep in his pockets. "Raven, I'm-"

"Don't apologize," she pleaded. Her tone was softer than it was before. "You're not the one at fault here. You're the one who told me." She pulled him in for a hug. "Thank you."

Bellamy turned to Clarke. He was lost on the situation. "Are you guys going foraging? Now?" He frowned. "It's dark."

"I'm not going," she explained. "They're going to yell in the forest." Bellamy lifted his eyebrows.

"We're having a yelling party," Raven explained.

"We're screaming into the endless abyss about her shitty boyfriend and how life sucks," Murphy provided.

Bellamy didn't look too impressed. He looked like he was going to say something, but Clarke lifted her eyebrows. "They promised they'd be safe and they have their weapons."

"It's dangerous," he pointed out. He didn't sound convinced.

"We'll be back in an hour," Raven promised him.

He turned to Clarke and she nodded. She knew this was dangerous, but Raven needed this to heal. She might have been in charge of the alliance, but that didn't mean she was in charge of their lives. They could make their own decisions.

"Okay." He kept his face emotionless as he spoke. "You two be safe, alright? Don't yell too loud."

Raven slipped past him. "I'll use my inside voice."

Murphy was next to pass him on the stairs. "I won't."

The two of them disappeared down the dark staircase, leaving Bellamy, Clarke and Monty. Monty stuffed his hands into his pockets again. "I'm going to catch some sleep. Wake me up if they're not back in an hour?"

"Of course."

Then, he disappeared back into the room, leaving just her and Bellamy. Clarke took Monty's spot beside him, and bumped his shoulder with her own. He offered her the small package of dried meat he was holding. She shook her head and he set it down.

This was their sixth day in the arena and she was completely exhausted. Since being thrown into the abandoned city, she had done more than she ever imagined she would have to do. She fought for her life in the bloodbath, ran for hours to get to safety, starved, went days without water, stitched up several injuries, scouted for areas to camp at, fought the Careers, lost people she loved, and somehow opened her heart up to others.

"Have a good sleep?" His voice was light, but she could sense how tired he was. _She felt it too._ The past week had been exhausting and draining.

"As good as it can be against a wall," she joked. She rested her head against his shoulder and he opened his arm, pulling her closer. She sighed in content and her eyes fluttered closed. "You're always comfortable," she commented, nuzzling her head closer to his body.

He chuckled and rested his chin on her head. "You're not too bad yourself," he responded. She could feel his heart rate increase. "You know… You don't have to sleep against a wall if you don't want to." Clarke's heart skipped a beat at that and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

She tried to keep her excitement out of her voice as she spoke. "Thank you, Bellamy."

They both fell silent for a long while. Clarke was curled into Bellamy's arms and savoured the warmth that they brought her. Being in his arms was like being home – he brought her comfort and safety in ways she never thought would be possible in the Hunger Games.

The anthem started and ended long after the sun had set and they had melted into each other's embraces. She was both thankful and worried that there were no faces in the sky that night. It meant that nobody else from her alliance had died, but it also meant none of their enemies had died either.

That thought made her sick.

 _Her enemies._

Since when did children become her enemies? They were all kids fighting for their lives. _They_ weren't the enemies. It was the Capitol – they were the real enemies here. While nobody left in the arena was innocent, she sure as hell would not classify them as evil or as being her enemy. Whatever they did in that arena was for survival.

It was like Kane told her; first they survive, then find their humanity.

Inside that arena, they weren't truly themselves. It was all a big lie – an act. _Nothing in the arena was real._

She curled her fingers into a fist and pressed her nose harder into Bellamy's shoulder.

 _What was real?_

She was sure _this_ was real – her and Bellamy. What she felt for him; that was real. _She cared for him,_ more than she should've. Every time she thought she couldn't care for him more, she was proved wrong.

She felt like she was willing to risk everything for him. Days ago, she jumped in front of her teammates to defend him; she was willing to risk her alliance and her life.

It terrified and thrilled her at the same time.

 _She was sure of it;_ whatever they had, it was real. Even if it was inside of the arena, she had to believe it was real. Without it, she wouldn't have had half of the happiness or comfort that she did. Without it, she would've been completely alone, even if she was surrounded by her alliance.

Clarke knew that, even if what she felt for him was real, they were impossible. They weren't going to both live. They both couldn't escape the arena.

 _One of them would have to die._

Her throat felt tight and her chest felt heavy. She pushed away from Bellamy slightly, sitting up straighter. _As if distancing herself from him physically would protect her heart._ Bullshit.

She sucked in a deep breath as the thought of losing him overwhelmed her.

Even if she did care about him, it wouldn't matter in the long run. There could only be one victor. Once the Games were over, only one of them could still be alive. They could never experience life together outside of the hell of the arena. They would never be able to experience life together outside of the Capitol.

Clarke's heart hurt as she thought about it. He would never be able to show her around his home district, introducing her to his neighbours and his old classmates. She wouldn't be able to bring him to her home district, to show him the clinic she used to work at or the cell she used to sit in.

They would never be able to fall in love. They were trapped inside of a world on fire, with only a few days left to live. The Games never went past twenty days and they were already on day six. _They had limited time together._

She would never be able to roll over in the morning and see him next to her. Bellamy offered that they sleep by each other already, but _it wasn't the same._ They wouldn't be in a bed, pressed against each other. She wouldn't ever get to find out how many pillows he used at night, or if he hogged the blankets. She wouldn't get to find out if he slept with the windows open like she did, or if he preferred to have the room silent and closed off.

It hit her that there were a lot of things she didn't really know about him. Even the simplest things – like his favourite color, or if he wore socks with saddles – were facts she had no clue about. She barely knew the man beside her, yet she felt like he was the only one she _did_ truly know in Panem.

How was that possible? How could she be falling in love with someone she knew hardly anything about?

Their situation made it impossible to know the tiny facts – they only met a few weeks ago. Did his morning routine truly matter compared to his morals and his outlook on life? She might not know how he took his tea, but she knew that he was a good man. She knew that he was willing to sacrifice his life for his sister. She knew he worked hard his whole life to provide for the people he loved the most. She knew that he was a good leader and an even better friend. She knew that he was the one to keep her centred in the chaos around them.

"Bellamy?" she questioned, breaking the silence they fell into. He lifted his head and turned to her without a sound, his eyes boring into hers. As soon as the blue met brown, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. "I have something to ask you."

His face turned serious, all traces of laughter immediately wiped from his face. "Of course. Anything." He looked concerned as she pondered her thoughts.

Her façade cracked and a smile took over her lips. "What do you take in your tea?"

His face was expressionless as soon as the question left her lips, but it was quickly replaced with a large smile. He let out a chuckle and pulled her back into his arms. She went freely and tilted her head back so he could plant a quick kiss to her lips.

"Gods, Clarke." He pulled back, a relieved smile on his lips. "I thought you were going to ask me about ethics or morals," he teased.

She smirked and locked eyes with him again. "Sorry," she said, but she didn't sound the slightest bit apologetic.

He shook his head jokingly and pressed his lips together in thought. "Instead of a _simple_ question like that, you ask me _this?_ We could be here all night, you know. I take my tea seriously." Clarke let out a laugh at that. She stifled it with her fist.

Out of anyone in her alliance, Bellamy was the only one that constantly made her laugh. She never expected to laugh so much while in the arena.

 _Then again, she didn't expect to care so much for anyone in the arena._

"I take two milks and two sugars."

Clarke pulled back, her nose crinkling. " _Two_ sugars?"

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at her. "Don't tell me you're one of those people that don't take any?"

She looked at him, her façade of seriousness returning. "It's true. One milk, no sugar." She quirked an eyebrow, begging him to challenge her. He swooped into her lips again and pressed a quick kiss. She could feel his smile against her lips.

"Makes sense. You're sweet enough on your own." As soon as the words left his lips, she let out a surprised laugh. She pulled away from him and jokingly batted his shoulder.

"You're not serious, Bellamy," she said between giggles. He let out a small laugh.

"Who says I'm not allowed to flirt with the beautiful woman beside me?"

She locked eyes with him and a wave of raw emotion hit her.

 _He called her beautiful._

It was strange for her to hear, considering she was covered in scratches and sweat. She hadn't showered properly since the Capitol, and she'd run for hours since. She knew that she was covered in mud and blood, and she hadn't pulled a comb through her hair in days.

 _That wasn't the part that shocked her._

It was the fact that nobody had called her beautiful since before she was arrested. Having Bellamy look at her with such devotion filled her with an emotion that was almost forgotten by her.

 _Love._

She quickly snuffed it out and turned back to him.

"You're _not_ trying to flirt with me, are you, Blake?" He shrugged and pretended to look uninterested. He wasn't a great actor – she could see his small smirk forming.

"And if I am?" She fell silent for a second, her smile slowly disappearing. She tried to calm her racing heart. She leaned forward and pressed her lips quickly against his cheek.

"I'd say you didn't need to."

She pulled back from his cheek and settled into his arms. He rested his chin on top of her head again, holding her as close as possible. She smiled to herself.

Even for a brief moment, it was nice to be playful and teasing with Bellamy. It was so hard to steal moments like that in the arena; she was so often surrounded by darkness and death. She felt guilty taking those moments to herself. She felt like she was betraying her fellow tributes by laughing and joking.

 _Simple pleasures,_ she reminded herself.

"How do you take your eggs?" His question was sudden and surprising to Clarke. Was he thinking the same things that she was? Was he realizing they didn't know the details of each other yet? It didn't matter. She was happy to talk to him about anything.

"I used to always boil them," she recalled. She thought back to how she usually ran her mornings. Before she would head to school or the clinic, she would always hard-boil an egg for lunch. Eggs always seemed more like a lunch food to her than a breakfast food. "You? I peg you for… sunny side up?"

Bellamy crinkled his nose. "Scrambled eggs are the way to go," he insisted. "I used to cook them as often as I could for Octavia and I for breakfast. It isn't too hard to mess up scrambled eggs."

"I could see you as a scrambled eggs guy," Clarke commented, still joking slightly. "What else did you usually have for breakfast?"

"Fruit," he said immediately. District 2 was located near fruit farms, so his answer didn't surprise her much. While it was more of a luxury item in District 6 – even for her – she wasn't a stranger to it. "Oranges were the go-to. Octavia always preferred bananas, but they weren't as common."

"I liked berries," Clarke said. "They would grow around the areas that we would harvest herbs for healing from. I would always sneak a few for myself when my mom wasn't looking."

"Another criminal act by my favourite delinquent," Bellamy teased her. She rolled her eyes, but wore a fond smile. "What about you? What was a staple breakfast in the Griffin household?"

Clarke felt a warmth seep into her bones as she thought back to her life before it fell to pieces. Just thinking of her childhood brought her such peace, she couldn't explain it. It had been so long since she thought of her family as _normal._ Back then, they were as normal as she could imagine.

"We would only have fruit on special occasions. Mom always wanted to have it more, but it wasn't as common as it is in the southern districts. My dad would always go out of his way to get tomatoes though – it would appease my mom slightly. We would usually just have toast or oatmeal – anything with grain, really, with being so close to the farms." Clarke smirked at her memories of breakfasts with her family. They would always make a point to eat together – every morning. "If my mom was ever working an overnight shift at the hospital, my dad would make an extra special breakfast. He'd go all out; tomatoes, pancakes or waffles, omelets." She smiled fondly.

"He seemed like a great guy," Bellamy said. Clarke's heart thudded painfully. "Your dad, I mean." Clarke felt a twinge of sadness as she remembered him. _He didn't deserve to die._

"He was." She pushed away her emotions and focused on the joy that thinking of her dad brought her. "He always made sure to be there for me, even if my mom couldn't be." She missed him. "Don't get me wrong, she tried too, but she was so busy with work. He came to every school play and concert that we had. He always made sure that he would be there, no matter what." Bellamy didn't respond – he just let her talk and think about her father. Finally, Clarke said, "School. What subject was your favourite?"

"I always enjoyed art and theory of weaponry," he responded without hesitation. "I know, I'm sure you hated it – everyone does – but I liked learning about the theory behind weapons we use daily."

Clarke frowned slightly and shifted awkwardly. "We didn't have that class in District 6," she said. "We… Uh- We didn't use weapons daily. Or at all, really."

Bellamy stiffened. "Right." He shook his head. "Of course."

It was just a reminder of how different their lives were. They grew up in different worlds. He was raised to be a fighter and a warrior, while she was raised to be a worker.

"How many pillows do you sleep with?" Clarke asked him, trying to get their minds away from his response.

"Two. You?"

"Two. How many blankets?"

"One. Do you sleep with the door closed?"

"Yeah. It seems… safer that way." _Even though it was proved on her last day of freedom that Peacekeepers could open that door if they wanted it._ Closing it didn't _really_ make it any safer. "But… I might like it open now. I'm not sure. I haven't really thought about it." Before he could say anything, she continued. "I spent the last year of my life, locked behind a door. I don't know if I would want it open, just to know that it was possible, or if I would still want it closed…" She frowned a little bit. "That was one thing I never really talked about."

"Your time in lock-up?"

She shook her head. "No. I never talk about how much it _changed_ me," she spoke slowly, unsurely. Bellamy didn't respond, he only looked at her, begging for her to continue. "I… don't really know who I am. Well, I didn't at first." She thought back to her time on the train. She didn't really know who she was or what she wanted. She didn't understand herself. After being away from people for so long, it felt impossible to know who she was. "And I still don't, with some things. Like sleeping with a door open. I don't _know_ what I'd want. I know what a memory of me would've wanted. But am I the same person?" She bit her lip. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"I didn't know you before you were in isolation," Bellamy stated. "I don't know who you were before all of that happened. But I've known you ever since you got out. And I know that you're a good person, Clarke, even if you aren't the same as you were." His voice was soft as he spoke. "You're… a brightness, like the sun. And you have a good heart and soul – that's always been clear."

"Thank you, Bellamy." She closed her eyes as she leaned into his side, savouring the warmth and comfort he brought her.

"I don't know who you were before, but I think this version of you is breathtaking." Her heart melted. "I couldn't imagine how hard it must've been, to feel so lost within yourself." She could feel him tense under her body. "And I hate that it happened to you. I hate that you were even forced to figure out who you were all over again." His voice lost the tenderness it held only moments before. " _What happened to you wasn't fair_. You were thrown into the Games from lock-up, not knowing who you were." His voice had dipped into a whisper, too. They both knew the dangers of trash talking the Capitol while in the Games. _It could get them killed._ "I hate what they did to you."

"I do, too," she said. "But I would do it all again." She managed to make her voice quieter than his was. Somehow, _that_ even felt too loud in the silent building.

"I know you would, Clarke." His voice held an affection towards her that made her melt. She pressed her forehead against his jaw and closed her eyes. After only a minute of sitting silently, Bellamy began to talk again. "Do you ever think about how different our lives would be if one thing was different?"

"Like what?"

"Like… what if we grew up in the same district? Or, what if travel between districts was allowed? What if we met before the Games even started? Do you ever think of those sort of things?" Clarke didn't pull away from her spot against his side. She didn't have to think much about her response.

"Of course," she said instantly. "It's nice to think about how different _all_ aspects of our lives would be if we didn't live here and now." She was reminded of a previous conversation she had with him, all those nights ago on the roof. "You told me once that you wanted to live amongst the stars."

"I would take anywhere except here, no doubt in my mind," he mumbled. "It doesn't even have to be the stars. I would easily take life before the Dark Days too – before Panem and before the Capitol. But… the stars would be nice."

"And do you ever think about your life if you would be living amongst the stars?"

Bellamy was silent for a while as he thought. She thought about it too. _No matter what alternate life she thought of, he was always by her side._ It was a strange feeling; one that made her feel like she was both flying and falling. He went from someone she didn't care about to someone she couldn't imagine her life without.

"I think I'd be a teacher of _something_. Maybe not history, since I only know the history of Panem, but I'd want to teach something. I wouldn't know how to hold a sword – like you, on our first day of training." She snorted.

"Octavia would be there too. She's always been a warrior – inside and outside of training. I just hope she wouldn't be trapped into that lifestyle still; of fighting and hiding. I'd want her to truly be her own person, to grow into who _she_ wants to be, not who she was expected to be." He thought for a while. She tried to imagine the world he was building for himself. It was a good one.

"Our parents would be alive, too." His voice was heavy and calculated, but he didn't hesitate as he spoke. "I've always missed my mom; I missed her even before she passed away. I don't think I could ever truly imagine a life without her." He pressed up lips together as he thought. "If we were in the stars, I don't think she would have to work half as hard as she did in District 2. Maybe she would've been around more as we grew up." She could feel him smiling against the top of her head. "I always loved when she cooked dinner, so maybe she would do that. Every day. Hell, I don't know. Do moms do that?"

"My dad did," Clarke said. "I cooked with him as I got older, but he was always the one to organize and cook dinner."

Bellamy nodded thoughtfully. "I honestly wouldn't care if she cooked or not. To have one more moment with her… Just to look at her and talk to her…"

Clarke swallowed thickly. "I know."

 _It was true._ She knew the feeling of wanting one more moment with someone already gone.

"But she would be there," Bellamy continued, already pushing past those painful thoughts. "I don't think I would want my dad. I never knew him in this lifetime, so why would I know him in other worlds? It doesn't make sense. I don't even know who he is." Bellamy fell silent again.

"You know what, scrap my mom cooking. _I_ would cook. I actually got pretty decent at it over the last year. Just… don't ask Octavia." Clarke cracked a smile at that. She was sure the youngest Blake would have something to say in disagreement there. "And you said you cooked with your dad?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then I'd hope we would always have family dinners or something. You'd cook and I'd cook with you. That would be fun."

Clarke felt like the air was sucked from her lungs.

 _He imagined her in his future too._

It felt like a spark had gone off in her heart and it radiated through her whole body. Bellamy had a place for her in his ideal alternate reality in the stars, and that filled her with warmth that she couldn't describe.

She always thought that they were brought together by unfortunate circumstances – the Games. She wasn't too sure if they would've ever met without both being tributes. She wasn't sure if they ever would've cared about each other if their lives weren't on the line.

To hear him so casually mention her place in his life outside of their bubble made her feel immense happiness. _Their time in the Games was just that – a bubble._ Hearing him say that she was part of his alternate reality made her feel like he was saying he didn't care about her just because she was another tribute.

 _He was saying that he would care about her in any life that they lived._

He was saying that they belonged together; that weren't a mistake that happened in the chaos of the Games.

"What about you?" he asked, breaking her from her thoughts. "What would your life look like if we lived in the stars?"

She really tried to imagine how different her life would've been if she was in a different world. She would still have a family. She would still have faith in the government and she'd still have hope for the future.

"My dad would still be alive," she said immediately. "My mom would've never betrayed him and she wouldn't even have the capability to do so. Wells would still be alive too, and be my best friend. We never would've fought and I never would've blamed him over something not his fault." Her nose wrinkled with her next thought. "Somehow, I can't see Jaha as anything other than a giant asshole, so he would probably still be mayor or president or something." Bellamy snorted at that. "And… Every Saturday, we'd do a big dinner. All three of our families."

Bellamy laughed. "Oh, so now the Jahas are invited? I never approved."

"I never did either – I only wanted Wells – but my mom invited both of them anyways. She always told me that it was important to play up good relations, even if you didn't like the person the best."

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "That's dumb."

"I know. And so is having Jaha over for dinner." Her heart felt light from their banter. "It'd probably be held at my house or yours, since we have the most people in our families, so we'd have more room." She tilted her head up to look at him. "Wait… Are their houses in the stars?"

Bellamy laughed at the visual he had. "Sure. Yeah. Why the hell not?"

"Well, wherever we have these dinners, they're both the more torturous and best part of our weeks. We got to hang out every week since we were born. Wells, too. You're good friends with him." Clarke chewed on her lip as she thought about the possibilities. "Jaha always eats all of the food that your mom brings. She's too nice to say anything, but he never brings enough food to the dinner to feed everyone. He really annoys her."

"I could see that," he laughed. "But my mom would get along well with your dad. They could exchange recipes or something." Clarke snorted at that. She knew her dad would've loved that. His voice was more hesitant when he spoke next. "Do you really think we would've been friends since childhood? If we grew up near each other?"

She shrugged. "Why the hell not?" He laughed at her using his exact words from earlier. "I mean, we were drawn together here, why wouldn't we have been earlier if we knew each other? I think I'd always be drawn to you, even if we grew up amongst the stars."

"It's nice to think about," he agreed. "Too bad we're not living in the stars. We're stuck _here._ " He didn't need to say anymore. _She understood._ They were stuck in Panem, living under a corrupt government. They had been raised to kill other children – they had been raised to kill each other.

 _If only things had been different._

"I have something to ask you." The sudden change of tone made Clarke's hair stand on edge. Bellamy sounded nervous and his voice was strained. What did he want to ask her that made him feel this worried?

"Of course," she responded, her tone immediately changing to match his.

Bellamy didn't pull away right away. It wasn't until a minute had passed when he pulled back from their embrace and turned to look her right in the eyes. She searched his for answers. _Nothing._ Her heart beat rapidly against her chest.

"I don't plan to get out of this arena alive. You know that." She nodded and tried to ignore the way her heart clenched. They established this early in their friendship – neither of them thought they could get out of the arena alive. He didn't plan to because of his sister, she didn't think it was possible for herself to win because of the Capitol. "It's a big favour to ask. _I know_ _it is."_ His jaw was tensed. "I don't- I can't-" Clarke chewed on her lip as she watched him struggle for words. What was he needing that was so hard to ask?

"Bellamy." She tried to say his name with as much tenderness that he spoke hers many times before. She hoped it caused him to feel safe, just like it did for her. She placed her hand lightly on his knee, bringing his focus back to her. His eyes zeroed in on hers, completely locking onto them like she was a lifeline. She hadn't seen him look so lost in a long time, not since they spoke on the roof of the training centre. _That seemed like a lifetime ago._ "You can ask me anything."

He sucked in a breath from between his teeth and nodded. She could see the muscles in his jaw twitching as he weighed his words. Clearly, he was carefully planning his words out carefully.

Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest that she knew he could feel it. Her stomach was churning, almost like she was going to be sick from the anticipation.

Finally, she felt him shift beside her. He swallowed thickly. "I was wondering if you could look out for Octavia." Clarke's breath got caught in her lungs. "When I'm gone." His voice was low and even, and he savored each word on his tongue.

She let his voice wash over her as she thought about his request.

 _Watch over Octavia._ He wanted her to watch over his sister after he died.

 _That thought made her heart race more._ Her chest was tight with pain.

"I'm not asking you to die for her – shit, I couldn't imagine asking _anyone_ to die here. Not for me, not for her, not for anything." He ran his hand over his face roughly, letting his exhaustion shine through from between his fingers. "I am asking if you'd be willing to keep an eye on her after I die."

Clarke still didn't react. _She couldn't_ react. She felt terrified and numb and scared and – _oh shit, he was asking her to take care of the most important person in his life._

"And all I mean is to keep her in the alliance, if that's okay. I don't expect you to even watch her up until the last second – I know alliances fall apart in the last few days." He was rambling now. She'd never heard him so nervous. Still, she couldn't bring herself to speak. _She wanted to,_ if only so she could reassure him. All words seemingly died in her throat though. "I just wanted to make sure that she'll be okay, even for a little while, no matter what happens to me."

Clarke was instantly brought back to the brief time she had to say goodbye after the reapings. _Mayor Jaha had come to visit her_. He came into her room moments before she was escorted onto the train away from her home, demanding her to watch over Wells. He tried to guilt her into doing it; begging her to lay down her life so his son could come home.

 _"_ _I want you to make sure he stays safe. I want you to watch out for Wells. Help him. Protect him. He's just a kid – he doesn't know what he's doing. He has an important future here. All I'm asking is for my son to come back to me. You understand, don't you?"_

His words were still crystal clear in her mind. She remembered how he begged her to trade her life for his, how he disregarded her worth of life. _How he disregarded the lives of all the other children going to the arena._

Her words still rang in her ears, too. _"There can only be one victor. You do realize what you're asking, right? You're asking me to die, so he can live."_

She recalled how _cold_ he was towards her once she told him no.

Clarke was furious that he even asked her to give any part of her life for his. She couldn't believe that Jaha had asked her to risk her life for Wells'.

 _But Bellamy was different._

While Jaha had demanded that she give her life for his son's, Bellamy didn't. All he was asking was for her to watch over her after he died. All he wanted to know was she wouldn't be abandoned if things went south – that she would have a home for as long as possible.

She knew Bellamy. He was shaking now; from nerves or from something else, she didn't know. But she knew what he was thinking. He thought he was asking too much. He was worried that she was going to interpret his question as a demand for her to give up her life for his sister.

 _He was wrong._

She understood him perfectly.

"Bellamy." She was surprised at the emotion in her voice as she spoke. His forehead was resting in the palms of his hands, his eyes shut and his jaw tensed. She cleared her throat and tried again. She allowed more of her emotion to shine through, willing her voice to convey everything her words couldn't. " _Bellamy_ …"

"I know. It's too much to ask."

His gaze dropped his eyes to the floor. His jaw was locked and she could almost read his mind in that moment – she was sure he was loathing himself for asking her.

Just as his arm was pulling away from her shoulders, she reached out to grasp his hand. Their bare skin connected, sending a jolt through her. He froze and his gaze darted over to meet hers.

"No." She shook her head, still at a loss for words. "That's not it." She was struggling to find the proper words. _Screw it,_ she thought. _He was waiting for her_. Every second she took trying to decide how to say what she wanted was just another second he was misinterpreting her silence. "It isn't too much to ask."

"Bu-"

"I promise you, Bellamy. _No matter what happens,_ I'll look out for Octavia." She inched off the step, trying to position her body right in his line of sight. "All you're asking me is to look at her the same after you're gone." The words felt heavy on her tongue. _She didn't want to imagine how things would be after he died._ "That's not asking too much. Not by a long shot." She brushed a stray curl behind his ear. "You're looking out for her. _You're being you._ "

She couldn't ignore the flip of her stomach as she spoke. In that moment, she realized the truth behind his words. He trusted her enough to ask her.

 _He trusted her to watch out for Octavia after he died._

She knew that his sister was his whole world; the fact he was asking her to watch out for her made her feel overwhelmed with love. _He trusted her just as much as she trusted him._

She wasn't offended in the slightest by him asking for her to watch out for Octavia.

He was looking pained for asking her. "Yeah, bu-"

She shook her head and grasped his hand, desperate to show him that she understood. "Bellamy, I would watch out for Octavia, no matter what happens," she promised. "I care about her, too. She's a good person and a good friend. I wouldn't kick her out of the alliance, just because you're gone. I wouldn't leave her alone in the arena – not in the slightest chance." He looked like he was struggling for words again.

"Bellamy, I'm serious. She's a friend. She's not just here because of you. She's here because I care about her and want her as an ally. And she's so damn talented and a warrior; I wouldn't dream of giving her up. It just so happens that you two are a package deal." He smirked at that. "I'm serious. I would've watched out for her, even if you didn't ask me to."

"Thank you, Clarke." His words were full of emotion as he spoke. She smiled to reassure him further and leaned back against the step.

"We wouldn't have survived for half as long without the both of you," Clarke pointed out. She thought about how the alliance had flourished with the Blakes there. Not only did Bellamy help save them and protect them numerous times, but Octavia had too. She risked her life to protect them from the Careers, only hours after Clarke stitched her back up. "Plus, even though Octavia has been injured, she's so bright." The girl had brought such joy to their group – whether it be by joking with Murphy or sharing stories from her childhood, Octavia seemed to hold a brightness that they all needed.

 _She cared about both of them._ Him asking her to watch out for his sister was not overstepping like he was afraid that it was. _They were a team._ She would protect both of them, just like she knew they would with her.

"Thank you," he said again.

He leaned into the step again, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She rested against his side and smiled, relishing in the warmth he always brought her. She was about to tell him that she didn't need to be thanked, but another idea occurred to her.

"Bellamy." She glanced away from him, moving pieces of her hair to block her face. Her gaze fell to the step below them, examining the wood that it was made out of. She didn't think she would be able to look at him, or his reaction, as she spoke. "If you want to repay me, I need you to promise me something, too."

"Anything."

She felt guilty wording it that way. _She didn't need to be repaid._ She just didn't think he would even consider her words if she didn't phrase it that way.

"Have you ever thought of… if _you_ win?" Her words were met with complete silence. Bellamy had stiffened beside her and it felt like the temperature had dropped several degrees. She continued anyways. "I know you want Octavia to win. I know that was the whole reason you came here – you told me – and I understand, I do. But… what will you do if something happens? _What would you do if something happened to her_?"

"I don't want to even think about it." His voice was strained. He let out the breath he was holding and cleared his throat. His shoulders had slumped forward and his face looked long. He looked exhausted and _done._ "I just… I don't know. She _has_ to win."

"What if she doesn't?" She didn't want to push him to think about something that would hurt him, but she felt like she needed to. She was curious about what _he_ planned to do in that situation. "Would you just… stop trying?"

He swallowed thickly and ran his hand through his hair. "No." His words were heavy, but they were sure. "I would help you win."

"We both know that's not possible," she said quietly. He didn't respond, so she tried again. "What if I'm not around either? It's just you. What would you do?"

"I don't know." He sighed. It was almost like all of his energy had bled out of him with Clarke's questions. She was about to tell him to forget what she asked, that it wasn't really important anyways, but he spoke before she could. "I wouldn't give up – I wouldn't stop trying to win." Her heart jumped at that. _Good._ She wanted him to try and win. "But I couldn't imagine living without Octavia. I couldn't imagine going back to District 2… _back to our home_ … without her. The house would feel too empty. It wouldn't be the same. It would be worse than torture, being the one that survived."

Clarke nodded, a lump growing in her throat. _She knew._ It was hard being the one to survive a death. She learned that from her dad. She learned that from Wells.

"I want to ask you something," she said, still undeterred. "I want you to do everything you can to win, if it comes to it. I hope you wouldn't take risks and try to get revenge on whoever did it. _I'd want you to win, Bellamy._ "

"I want the same for you." His body had relaxed again, allowing Clarke to melt into his side. "I know you said that you don't think you'll get out of here alive. _But you have to try._ Don't give up because you think it's impossible. _Try for it._ If it truly is impossible, you'll deal with it then. But don't give up early. _Try."_ Clarke nodded her head.

"I'll try."

Her heart was heavy as she thought about the inevitable. _They were living in a bubble._ It wouldn't be too long until their paradise would be taken away. They both couldn't survive forever.

He was going to die, she was going to die, or Octavia was going to die. There would come a day where one of them would wake up alone. There was a possibility that she would have to face the arena without him and without anyone else in her alliance.

 _She didn't want that day to come._

"Promise me, you'll live the life you always wanted," Bellamy mumbled. She tilted her her curiously and he continued. "You told me that you wanted to become a doctor. You wanted to get married. You wanted to have the choice to have kids. You wanted to be able to do what you wanted with your life." She smiled faintly at that and her chest felt warm.

 _He remembered._ She told him about her dreams for a future that was never going to happen when they were on the roof of the training centre – it surprised her that he remembered what she said. _Then again, she remembered what he said too._

"If you win, I want you to get that. I want you to live however you want. Live without regrets. Live true to yourself. _Save people,_ like you always wanted. Accomplish what _you_ want, not what other people want for you."

"If I promise that, you have to do the same," she said, her jaw locked in determination. "Promise me that if you win, you'll do what _you_ wanted to do. You'll go back to school and become a teacher. You'll meet a girl somewhere and have two dozen children, like you've always wanted."

"Hey," he teased. "I don't want two dozen children. One dozen will do." She snorted at that. Somehow, she barely doubted that he was telling the truth.

If there was one thing she knew about Bellamy, it was that kids would always be something he wanted. He grew up raising Octavia. That had sparked something inside of him. She remembered him telling her that.

"All jokes aside, I want you to be happy, Bellamy, in whatever way you can. If you decide to not become a teacher, it doesn't matter, as long as you're happy. Live a life you have no regrets about, too." She glanced up at him. He looked just as heartbroken as she felt.

"I know you, Bell," she continued. "I know you'll be guilty for being that one that survived." She knew this, because she felt it too. She knew she would feel guilty if she was the one to live. "But I want you to find peace. I want you to be _happy._ You deserve it, Bell. Out of everyone." He didn't respond right away. She searched his eyes for something – _anything_. All she could sense in him was turmoil. "I'll try, Bell. If I get out of here, I'm going to live the best damn life I can give myself." She hoped that her confession would set him at ease, even just a little bit. "You don't need to promise me anything. I know that if you promise and things don't go the way we talked about, you'll feel like you broke that." She nodded her head in determination. " _We won't promise."_

"We won't promise," he echoed. "But I'll try, too." She smiled at him, her heart feeling like it was crushing inside of her. _This was a fate she never wanted to think about._ "We'll find happiness one day, wherever we end up. _We'll try to, anyway._ "

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact and a peaceful smile lifted her lips. She snuggled into his side more as he pulled away. She tried to focus on the happiness he brought her in that moment, pushing away all thoughts about their future.

She could only focus on him.

* * *

 **Here is a list of tributes remaining. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter (none for this chapter). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **Reviews are appreciated!**


	33. Chapter 33: Day Trip

**I'm excited to share this chapter! It is the start of one of my favourite mini-arcs of this fic. It spans the next few chapters, and I'm just so excited to read reactions. I think it's my favourite part of the whole fic (including pre-written chapters). (Maybe. I probably say that about a lot of 'arcs.')**

 **Warnings: violence**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 33: Day Trip**

* * *

 _Day 7 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke woke up the next morning with a kink in her neck. She sat up from her spot against the wall, rubbing her neck tiredly.

Luckily, her and Bellamy only had watch for the first half of the night and she was able to catch some sleep. It helped that Raven and Murphy returned while she was still awake; she doubted she would've been able to sleep at all if they hadn't returned while she was on watch.

As soon as she was off watch, her eyes had closed and she had fallen asleep closer to the Blakes than usual. _She was so exhausted._

As soon as she came to, she realized that Bellamy and Octavia were already up. They whispered to each other quietly only a few feet away from her. She couldn't hear what they said, but it was Bellamy's suppressed laugh that woke her up.

"Sorry!" he gasped out. His whole body was shaking from his laugh, which made it hard for Clarke to believe he was _actually_ sorry. She couldn't care less. It was nice to see them laughing together. She knew how hard it was on Bellamy to consider losing his sister.

"It's okay. I was almost up anyways." It was a lie, but she didn't want him to feel guilty for waking her up.

As soon as she unwound her body from the cocoon she had put herself in, she shivered. Even though the sun was rising in the distance, turning the sky a golden orange, the chill from the night still hung in the air. It didn't help that it was still raining out and the sky was grey. She lost track of how many days it had been raining.

She had never seen an arena look so dark and foreboding before. Then again, she'd only ever seen them on television before. It was a different beast when she was sitting in the place she was going to die in.

"Murphy's on watch," he said. Octavia rolled her eyes.

"Not happily."

"When do I ever do anything happily, Blake?" Murphy snapped from just outside the doorway. Octavia rolled her eyes harder and Bellamy smirked at that.

Clarke glanced around the room, massaging her shoulder that was scrunched up in her sleep. Her muscles were aching. Raven and Monty were still asleep across the room and she stifled a laugh. The mechanic looked like she was in an uncomfortable position, with her head tucked against her elbow, but she was sound asleep. She looked okay too – content, almost. She was glad she wasn't in tears anymore about her cheating boyfriend.

Clarke winced as she dug too hard into her shoulder. She pulled back and glanced down. She has pressed right into the claw marks left behind by the Capitol mutts. Bellamy's fingers met hers as he leaned forward to examine her shoulder.

"We should get that cleaned and bandaged," Bellamy suggested. "I mean, I'm not a medic, but…" He sent her a wink and she smirked slightly at that. She knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but all she could think about was their lack of supplies. That put a damper on any jokes she had.

"We don't have the materials for that. We're completely out of bandages." She caught his hand before he could pull it away from her and turned it palm up. The piece of shirt that he used to wrap up his hand had been tugged loose, so she could easily slip it off. He winced as the cloth pulled the dried blood from his wound. "Sorry." She lifted his palm closer to her face and frowned. He needed a better dressing. She didn't want it to get infected.

"I guess I cut a little deeper than I needed to, huh?" Bellamy was trying his best to make light of the situation, she knew and appreciated that, but her heart was too heavy to laugh at that moment. They needed supplies – quick.

"We need to get more supplies." She wrapped the cloth back around his hand. "I doubt sponsors will send us anything – we've been out for the last few days and we haven't got a package. The medicine we got must've cost a lot." She pulled away from Bellamy, already trying to come up with a plan. "We need to find more ourselves."

"The only place that'll have supplies is the Cornucopia," he pointed out. She could hear the judgement in his voice. "That's dangerous."

"What's adventure without danger?" Octavia questioned from across the room. Bellamy gave her a hard look. She rolled her eyes. "Just saying. Everything is dangerous here."

"Octavia's right, Bellamy. This whole arena is dangerous. We need supplies, or we'll get starved out."

She hated to say it, but they _needed_ to get materials. They needed medical supplies for her and Bellamy, and food, water, and weapons for the rest of the alliance. They still were recovering from the attack in the cave. They lost majority of their supplies there.

She hated to even think of leaving their safe building, going into the most dangerous part of the arena, but they didn't have another choice.

"The whole arena is dangerous, but the Cornucopia is even more risky. We're out in the open, at a central location. We'll get picked off easily." Bellamy looked as uneasy as she felt.

"We don't have a choice," she said, voicing her thoughts. She was already set on going. "We need supplies, and the only way we'll get that is if we get it ourselves." She set her jaw. "It's dangerous and risky, but we're almost out of everything."

"Clarke, it's dangerous." He gestured out the window. "And it's terrible outside. Maybe that's the arena telling us to stay put."

"Or maybe it's just another challenge and is there so the weakest die," Octavia offered. Bellamy wasn't too impressed with her siding with Clarke, but Octavia didn't seem to care. "It's a little rain. It won't kill you."

"Watch it be acid rain, just because you said that," he pointed out. Clarke could almost laugh at that. It was so ridiculous, but it was a petty thing the Capitol and the Gamemakers would do.

Still, they needed supplies.

"Trust me, the last place I want to be right now is running through the rain, but this is a good time – better than anything we'll get." Clarke could tell Bellamy was thinking about it. "Nobody is going to be outdoors during this storm. We can slip in and slip out before we're noticed." He looked hesitant. She knew that he could see the need in going and the logic behind going in the storm. She didn't need to say too much more to convince him. "This storm provides perfect cover. _We need this_."

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You're right," he said eventually. "We should go now, before we are completely out of supplies and don't have a choice."

"Exactly," Clarke said, smiling. "Great. Okay. I'll be quick. You won't even notice I'm-"

"Hold on." Bellamy looked confused. "You actually think I'm going to let you go out there? _Alone_?"

"Well... yeah." She didn't see too much of a problem with it. If she went alone, she could move quickly and quietly. If the whole group came with her, they would be noticed easily. They needed to stay back and watch their camp. Plus, if she was attacked, it would only be her that died, not her whole alliance. "Listen, Bellamy-"

"I'll go with you," he offered. Clarke's heart skipped a beat. "I know what you're going to say; it makes more sense to go alone. _But we go as a team_. We can watch each other's back and carry more stuff." His voice was strong, unquestioning. She stared at him for a long moment. He lifted his eyebrows. "We'll go together."

 _Together._ That was their single promise from the Games; that they'd do things together.

"Okay."

He didn't have to work too hard to convince her. She genuinely liked being around him, and going to get more supplies with him meant she could spend more time with just him. Don't get her wrong, she loved all her allies, but Bellamy was special. He was a good fighter and he proved over and over again that the safest place in the arena was with him. Not only that, but she would've taken any excuse to get time alone with him.

Even though she knew they wouldn't last, she couldn't get enough of him. He held a piece of her heart and soul already. He brought he happiness and peace in a place only filled with darkness and death. He made her feel alive, even though she had never been so close to death. Being around him made her feel like she was on fire in all the right ways.

She knew that they only had days left together. She knew that they wouldn't get to date like a regular couple, or even consider dating. _They weren't normal_. They were tributes. They didn't get that luxury.

She knew that she was living in a bubble with him. She was brought to the arena to die, but she found something so much brighter. Even though she knew that it was impossible, she couldn't help but ache to spend every moment with him.

 _He made her feel normal._

She felt like a normal teenager with him, aching to spend moments alone. She didn't feel like a tribute or a sacrifice. She didn't feel like she was moments away from death. _He made her feel alive._

"Can I come?" Octavia asked eagerly from the floor. Clarke cast a glance at her.

"You're kidding, right?" Bellamy took the words right out of her mouth. "I'll be dammed if you're getting out of that bed until your scar is completely gone." Octavia gave him a dirty look.

"You'll have to move around," Clarke corrected. "It's good to have blood flow around your wound, and it help prevent respiratory infections."

"Ha! _See_!" She lifted her chin triumphantly.

"But," Clarke said quickly, "we're doing something too dangerous. You can't fight yet; it'll tear you apart. You can't run or jump or climb or anything. It's too risky." Octavia looked like she was going to protest, but Clarke shook her head. "Sorry, Octavia, but you can't come."

She huffed. "I've been stuck in bed all week. Why can't I just-"

"No." Bellamy frowned at her. "You're hurt! Don't rush your recovery."

"Oh yeah, like I have all of the time in the world." She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not saying no movement," Clarke clarified. "All I'm saying is no strenuous activities. I actually want you to work on sitting up while Bellamy and I are gone. If it's too painful, don't, but try to work on it. If that goes well, try walking around the room a bit. Lincoln can help you. Right?" She glanced across the room, where Lincoln was sitting. He nodded.

"Fine." Octavia relaxed back and closed her eyes. She still didn't look too happy, but it seemed like she understood. At least she wasn't putting up a fight. "Go kick ass without me."

"You're despicable," Bellamy muttered. She tossed a pack of crackers at his head. He swatted it out of the air. They both smirked at each other. After a moment, he turned to Clarke. "Let's go."

He left the room, an empty backpack on his back and his sword in his hands. Clarke tightened the straps on her bag, gripped the hilt of her sword tighter, and followed him out the door.

As they climbed down the stairs, the sound of rain filled the silence. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end and a chill went up her spine as the air turned crisp and cold the closer they got to the ground. Luckily, it was only raining lightly out, but she wasn't looking forward to walking in the rain.

She always used to like the rain, especially while she was in lock-up. She didn't have windows while in prison, so it was impossible to know the weather outside. It was something so small and simple, but seeing the sky and knowing the weather kept her centred. Not knowing made her feel lost and disoriented.

The only time she could be sure of the weather was when she heard the patter of rain on the roof of her cell. The constant splashes brought her a feeling of peace and tranquility. She felt connected to her district again. She felt human again.

 _Things were different now._

She had never spent so much time outside before, not in her whole life. She was living in a ruined city, surrounded by people trying to kill her. Clarke felt like she was always low on supplies and always searching for something to keep them alive.

 _She knew exactly what the weather was while in the arena, but it didn't make her feel any more human._

While the rain once brought her peace, it only brought her frustration and worry now. Her mind didn't feel connected to her loved ones while it rained – her mind only focused on how it would impact her.

She didn't want her alliance to get wet. Wetness brought the risk of hypothermia, especially considering the sky hasn't been clear in several days.

 _But they needed supplies._

The need for supplies overtook her worry of hypothermia. They needed to survive. Only after they had the means to do so would she worry about keeping herself dry.

Bellamy stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turned to her, an expression of worry on his features. Clarke couldn't help but smirk the tiniest bit at how his nose scrunched up when he was deep in thought.

She never would've thought she would be so in tune with someone that she could pick up what their mood was based on their face. She never thought she would know someone well enough to notice small changes in their facial expression, or communicate entirely by body language.

It scared her how well she knew the man in front of her. She knew him better than she knew anybody, and she had only known him for a fraction of time.

"We'll move slowly and quietly," he whispered to her. "There's no use in running; we're going to get drenched either way." Clarke nodded her head in agreement.

"We need water, food, bandages, sterilizers, floss, and weapons," she recounted. It felt weird how mundane the task was. It was almost like they were going for a trip to the store at the end of the street, not the sight of the bloodbath. "I hope the Cornucopia isn't picked out."

"I hope it isn't overrun by other tributes." His face darkened with a frown. "The Careers could be anywhere."

"They've been avoiding city centre," she pointed out. "They've been in the woods from what we've both seen."

"They could've moved." He adjusted his grip in his sword. "Just... don't underestimate them and think you're safe."

Clarke cracked a grim smile. "We're never safe."

"Just try to stay safe," he told her.

She agreed with him. "Plus, we need to watch for mutts. Obviously the Capitol has no issue in using them this early in the Games."

"Probably because there's so many tributes left."

It was true. They had barely dipped below the number of tributes the survived the bloodbath in regular years. _Probably because most of them were in her alliance._

There were still 13 of them left and they had been in the arena for seven days. The Capitol must've been wanting to make a show of it all.

"Stick to the shadows. We don't need to be out in the open." She nodded her head in understanding. He examined her face for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, with a stiff nod, he opened the door.

As soon as the door was opened, rain splattered all over her face. She let out a startled gasp and sputtered. The wind had blown the rain horizontally, right into her, and caught her off-guard.

"Let's move!" Bellamy hissed, already moving into the streets. She wiped the water from her eyes and ran after him.

The water splashed up from the puddles on the roads, soaking her pants. Water had seeped into her boots within the first thirty seconds of being in the rain. Every time she stepped, she could hear a sloshing coming from her feet.

They raced across the open road, heading for shelter in the next building. Bellamy ducked into a doorway, leaving just enough space for Clarke. She slipped in beside him, pressing her back tightly into the wooden frame.

She couldn't help but notice how close he was to her. If she took a step forward, their bodies would collide. He was glancing at her too, a small smirk on his lips and his pupils wide. She smirked at his frazzled expression; he was obviously thinking the same thing she was.

 _They were both thrown by the intimacy of the cramped doorway._

She glanced away from him, a playful smile on her lips. This wasn't the time to fantasize. _She had to focus._

After a moment of silence, she nodded her head, giving him the all clear. They raced in perfect harmony down the sidewalk, water splashing up around them. Even though they both agreed not to run through the rain, it was pure instinct to try not to get wet. Everything in her was screaming not to spend too much time in the rain.

After another minute of running, Clarke ducked into another doorway. This one was larger than the last, which was both a good and bad thing. She couldn't risk having her senses and her mind clouded with Bellamy being so close to her. She needed to keep her mind sharp.

 _Still, pressing against the cold wood without feeling his body heat inches from her made her shiver._

"You okay?" His voice was softer than she ever could've imagined it to be. She barely heard him over the gusts of wind and the pounding of rain against the pavement. She nodded her head at him, not trusting her voice to be quiet enough to speak.

He turned away from her, scanning the streets. Her eyes swept across the buildings on the opposite side they stood on, searching for any movement or any signs of life. Seeing nothing, she nodded.

They took off down the street again. She tried to keep her pace to a hurried walk. The slower her feet slammed down on the ground, the less noise it made as it hit the puddles. He hovered by her side, adopting the pace she set. Once again, they ducked into a doorway and scanned the street for any life forms.

 _Nothing._

Over and over, they continued to duck into doorways and back alleys, taking time to catch their breaths and examine the buildings around them. It was tedious, but she knew it was necessary.

She was drenched by the time they were only a few blocks away from the Cornucopia. They hadn't seen any movements in the buildings and nobody tried to attack them yet, but that wasn't calming to her. She couldn't let her guard down.

Her hand was grasped tightly around the hilt of her sword, her knuckles straining. Her heart was racing in her chest and her muscles were tensed, ready to dive out of the way of anything at any moments notice.

They rounded the corner, turning onto familiar roads. While Clarke hadn't returned to the Cornucopia since the bloodbath, she didn't think she would ever forget those small paths leading away from it. The images of the roads were engraved into her mind. _She didn't think she would ever be able to get the image of those roads covered in blood out of her mind._

As they approached the city centre, she felt a gnawing feeling at her soul. She felt like wave after wave kept hitting her, drowning her.

She felt overwhelmed and beyond scared. Just being back in the place that she seen so much destruction in caused her mind to spiral. Her heart hammered and she felt like her stomach had completely inverted itself. Her hands shook and her throat felt tight.

This was the place where she almost died. The feeling of being knocked to the ground by the girl from District 9 radiated around her body. _The young girl tried to kill her_. If Clarke hadn't kicked her ankles, she would've died.

This was where she killed her first person, even if it was indirectly. Because she took down that girl, she died later on. _It was her fault._

The feeling of the air getting knocked out of her lungs as she was tackled to the ground the second time made her grimace uncomfortably. Murphy had pushed her to the ground, out of the way of an arrow. If he hadn't have done that, _she would've died_. She would've been hit with that arrow and killed. _He saved her life._

She glanced over at Bellamy. He had a completely unreadable expression on. His jaw was locked tightly and his eyes stormy. She wondered if he was thinking about the last time he was at the Cornucopia too – when Octavia was almost killed by the Careers.

She pushed it out of her mind. _That wasn't going to help her survive._

She pressed her back against the wall and took several deep breaths. The rain kept splashing her on the face, making her flinch in surprise several times.

Her hair was glued to her face, bringing water droplets to her eyes and running down her neck. No matter how many times she wiped the water away, more would take its place. She was entirely soaked, from head to toe.

Bellamy looked the same way. His hair, which was usually curled, was pulled tightly against his head. It stuck to his forehead and hung lowly into his eyes. She wondered how he could see through it. His clothes stuck to his body, just as hers did.

He poked his head around the corner, taking a moment to survey the area. He examined the Cornucopia, looking for any tributes surrounding the pile.

"Nothing." His voice was low as he spoke. At hearing his all clear, Clarke turned the corner and took her turn to examine the area.

While she didn't see any tributes, her eyes locked on the supplies sitting in the centre. It looked relatively untouched from what she remembered. She tried to think back to their first day of the arena.

 _Running._

 _Screaming._

 _Blood._

She remembered getting the air knocked out of her lungs as she was tackled to the ground twice; once to be killed, the other to be saved. She still remembered the panic filling her when Murphy landed on top of her, throwing her out of the way of an arrow.

She never got a good look at the Cornucopia. During the countdown, she stood on the platform and scanned the faces of the twenty-three other tributes around her. She remembered desperation and fear filling her as she tried to locate Charlotte and Murphy. She didn't waste a second to look and study the Cornucopia.

Once the bell rang that first day, she took off into the clearing, headed for the loot. Her eyes were focused on the supplies lined in the centre, but she didn't commit it to memory. In the first few seconds of the Games, she was already having to fight for her life.

Even while she was running towards the centre, she stopped to gather supplies laying on the outskirts. She never made it to the the giant golden Cornucopia. She never turned back to look at it as she ran away.

Really, this was the first time she could truly see it and admire its beauty.

Just thinking about her experience during the bloodbath was making her heart pound in her chest. She didn't want to remember how close she was to death that day. She didn't want to think about how many children were killed in that field – children that she could've saved if she had the time.

 _Not the time,_ she reminded herself.

Her eyes scanned the giant clearing, looking for any movements. She wondered why nobody had claimed the area? In the previous Games that she watched, a group of tributes _always_ claimed the Cornucopia. Usually, the Careers would overtake all of the supplies and keep it away from all other tributes. They would have an abundance of food and any weapon that they dreamed of.

 _Why weren't they here? Why was this year different?_

Clarke glanced towards Bellamy, fearing rising in her. She got a bad feeling from this. _Why would it be empty?_ There was plenty of supplies, and she knew that many tributes were still alive. Why hadn't someone – _anyone_ – captured the area? Why wasn't someone watching the supplies?

Bellamy's eyes flicked to hers. She could see confusion and leeriness in them as well. He cocked his head to the side, gesturing towards the city centre. ' _What do you think?'_ he seemed to be asking. She shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyebrow in response. He sighed and turned back to look at the supplies.

Clarke followed suit and examined the amount of supplies left. She could see more weapons than she remembered there being on the first day; swords, knifes, spears, bows and arrows, axes.

She could also see backpacks upon backpacks lined up against the interior wall of the Cornucopia, too. If the backpacks on the outskirts were filled with some food and sterilizers, then she wondered what would be in those bags? It didn't take a genius to figure out that the further you got into the Cornucopia, the more valuable the items became.

She spotted tiny silver packages of dried food spilling out of one half-opened backpack. A few feet away, fresh fruit sat. Her mouth instantly watered at that. She swallowed thickly and tried to focus her mind.

 _Focus. Focus Focus._

She couldn't make a stupid error because she was rushing or because she got too distracted. _The food could wait._

They needed medical supplies, desperately. They were out of everything that they originally had. If she found one roll of gauze, she would be happy, but she hoped for more.

As she scanned the field, she became disappointed. _Nothing._ She hoped that a backpack would contain some of the items they needed, but she felt that, with her luck, that wouldn't be the case.

"It's strange that nobody is around," Bellamy whispered to her. She nodded her head in full agreement. She had been thinking the same thing. "I don't see anyone…"

"Neither do it."

Clarke scanned the buildings that towered over the Cornucopia, but she couldn't see any shadows in the windows. She wondered where the girl with the bow – Murphy's district partner – had gone. Was she waiting for unlucky tributes to walk into the city centre so she could shoot them down? Was that why the Cornucopia was empty?

"Look for traps," Bellamy instructed. "Anything that looks out of place. Wires in places they shouldn't be, moved objects, freshly dug dirt. This is too good to be true. There has to be a catch." His voice trailed off as he got lost in thought, searching the area for anything that could cause them harm.

Clarke did as he asked. She scanned the area again for anything that seemed suspicious. The only thing that seemed out of place was all of the supplies that had lined the outskirts of the Cornucopia had been gathered and brought back inside. It looked like someone had been spending time there at some point during the Games. _Were they still there? Was this a trap?_

"We're clear. I think."

Bellamy turned to face Clarke again, searching her face for any sign of distress. She hardened her expression and nodded. She couldn't see anything out of place either. She didn't see any movements on the ground or in the buildings.

They needed supplies and _it was right there._

It was dangerous. _But it was a necessary risk._

Clarke nodded her head and couched into a running position. Bellamy copied her and scanned the area on final time. Seeing nothing, he took off sprinting. Clarke was only a split second behind him, running towards the Cornucopia.

The rain splashed up from the ground and onto her legs. She could barely feel it; she was already soaked from being outside for so long. It felt like she had a permanent chill now, a coldness seeping into her bones.

While the rain hadn't bothered her too much as they made their way into city centre, she was beyond annoyed with it as she ran now. Rain drops kept hitting her directly in the eyes somehow, making it nearly impossible to see. Every step she took, she had to blink just to keep her vision semi-clear.

To make matters worse, her hair had come completely undone from the braid she wore. It now clung tightly to her neck and her face, plastered to her skin from all of the water. Water drops slipped down her face, following the path of the strands. She pushed it off of her, but it fell back into her eyes. She tried to ignore it.

They made it to the centre of the clearing quickly. As soon as they reached the metal structure, Bellamy turned and pressed his back on the inside wall.

She felt relief as they entered the metal structure. It provided much needed cover from the rain. Clarke flew in behind him, and dropped to the muddy ground, already opening a backpack.

She rummaged around in it, trying to figure out if any of the items would be of use. There was a bar of soap, which she abandoned quickly. They already had a single bar, and she definitely didn't plan on returning to the Pond of Death, as Murphy nicknamed it.

Clarke tossed that bag to the side and reached for the next one. This bag had floss, which she shoved into one of her pockets on her jacket. She was reaching for the next backpack when Bellamy spoke next.

"I saw something!" Bellamy hissed urgently.

With those three words, Clarke's heart stopped. He reached for Clarke without looking, helping her to stand beside him. She clamoured up as quickly as she could, gripping onto his outstretched hand.

He already had his sword drawn and in the ready position. Clarke held her breath, too scared that even the slightest noise would attract the attention of whatever Bellamy seen.

They both stood, completely silent and rigid for several minutes. Bellamy was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Clarke had resumed breathing, but she tried to keep it as even and as quiet as possible. She strained her ears to hear any noise beyond the cornucopia.

 _She couldn't hear a thing._

The blood rushed through her ears and her heart rate had skyrocketed. Her hands shook as she held her sword in front of her. Were they about to die? Was this a trap? Should she have trusted her gut intuition?

"Bellamy?" Clarke whispered after several minutes. He turned to her slowly, his face completely hidden behind a stone mask. He swallowed thickly and leaned towards her.

"We'll have to hurry."

He pulled back further into the Cornucopia and gestured towards the supplies. Clarke nodded her head in understanding. She would collect what they needed while he stood guard.

Clarke rushed further into the Cornucopia, heading for the weapons. She pulled several knives and other small items off the shelf and stuffed them into the empty backpack she carried.

There was a medium sized black box sitting against the wall of weapons. It caught her eye, as it was the only thing behind a caged door. It had to be good if it was kept separate from everything else, right?

She didn't think too much. She stuffed into Bellamy's backpack and continued looking. She didn't pay too much attention to what she was grabbing – anything would be better than nothing.

Clarke dropped to her knees and began ripping through the backpacks along the back of the Cornucopia. She didn't even notice the mud or the dirty water that soaked into her pant leg.

She opened several backpacks and tore through the supplies, looking for anything useful. It seemed that they were already picked through, since all that was left were packages of soaps and shampoos.

On the seventh backpack, she found what she was looking for. There was a large bottle of water, several packages of dried meat, and two packages of gauze. She reached into the next backpack and pulled out the several packages of crackers it contained, stuffing it into the other bag.

She continued piling the supplies into her backpack, hoping that the bags wouldn't weigh too much to carry. She tried to pick a limited amount of water, which was tough. She knew they needed water – badly.

She managed to find another bag filled with useful items. There were several packs of matches, water sterilizers, antiseptic for wounds, and a dozen large bandages. In another backpack filled with soap, she found another pack of floss. While she hoped to find an actual suture kit, she would take what she could find.

Clarke stuffed one final orange into the extra backpack she had grabbed, feeling satisfied. She managed to grab weapons for every member of her alliance, plus some extra. She found some items they would have to look into later, like the black box that now sat in the bottom of Bellamy's bag. She found dried meat, a package of nuts, crackers, and fresh fruit. She grabbed a few water sterilizers and several bottles of water – she wasn't too sure how many, but she knew that it would do for now. Along with that, she found much needed medical supplies; gauze, bandages and floss.

 _She never thought she would see the day where she would consider floss as a medical supply._

She zipped up the backpack filled with food and stood up. She already strapped her own backpack on and Bellamy wore his, leaving the additional bag without a home. Just as she was figuring out how to carry it all, she heard a loud boom off in the distance. It was different than the sound of a canon. This one seemed to shake the ground and she could hear stone hitting stone off in the distance.

She instinctively froze, fear completely petrifying her body. "Bellamy…?" She called out shakily. "What was-"

Before she could speak, Bellamy pulled her to the ground, ducking behind a wall of supplies. His arms were wrapped around her head, pulling it close to his chest, shielding her from the outside world. She landed on the ground roughly, dirty rain water splashing into her open mouth.

 _Then she felt it._

The wind was knocked out of her as an arrow embedded itself into the ground. While she would have been able to run away normally, this wasn't a normal arrow.

As soon as the arrow landed, a shockwave was given off. The ground blew apart like it was made of dust and the air rippled. The air was pushed out of her lungs and she felt her hair whip around her face. Even with her body tucked tightly against Bellamy, she could feel her fly forward from the force of the explosion. Dozens of boxes of supplies rained down on them, burying them under a mountain of material.

Bellamy's elbow dug into her ribs painfully, but she was sure her grip on his bicep was just as painful. He laid on top of her, protecting her from the brunt of the blast. His arms were still curled around her head, the sides of his arms managing to block her ears. Somehow, he also managed to cover his ears with his hands. His neck dipped so his forehead touched her, creating a wall of hair around her face.

Part of her knew that they were lucky. If they hadn't been behind the wall of supplies, the shockwave would've hit them head on. They were protected from the brunt of the explosion, her more so because of Bellamy.

For a brief second, it felt like the world was standing still. Her ears rang and her lungs refused to cooperate. She blinked up at him, her voice getting trapped in her throat.

Clarke's heart was hammering as she examined Bellamy's face for any signs of pain. He pulled away from her slightly, just enough so she could see his full face and that their breaths still met. She quickly scanned his face and was relieved that he didn't seem to be in any pain. His eyebrows were pushed together and his face was taunt, but she knew that look.

 _He was frantic._

They didn't waste anytime. _They had to go._

Bellamy rolled off of her and climbed from the ground, pushing the supplies that fell on them off. She pushed off the ground, her head spinning. Bellamy reached out for her arm and helped her stand steady on her feet. She pulled him to her side, helping him stand steady as well. She struggled to regain her breath, but she knew there wasn't any time for that.

 _They had to go._

Clarke looked towards the mouth of the Cornucopia and caught sight of the object that caused the explosion.

 _An arrow._

A sinking feeling entered her stomach. Murphy's district partner was the only person that she knew was good with a bow; she seen her running off with one and a backpack full of arrows during the bloodbath. Was it possible that she was trying to kill them?

"We have to go," Bellamy told her. Clarke was already moving towards the mouth of the Cornucopia. He picked up his sword that he dropped and caught her wrist, panic in his eyes. "We can't go that way. They'll be waiting."

Clarke shook her head. "We have to. _It's the only way_ ," she stressed.

They couldn't wait in the Cornucopia much longer. If whoever shot at them had arrows that caused explosions, they could easily corner them and kill them. _They had to get out of there._

Was it worth it to risk running out in the open? Could they make it all the way out of the clearing before being shot?

She doubted it.

They were going to die. If they stayed, they would be cornered. If they ran, they would be shot.

 _Damn it._

"We need a distraction," Bellamy said. He already dove into the remaining supplies and began digging. "We need anything that'll distract them from us as we run."

Clarke followed Bellamy and began to rummage through the supplies. While he was looking aimlessly, she had a specific goal in mind.

 _Arrows._

While she wasn't the best shooter, she knew Bellamy was. As she dug, she realized there wasn't another bow in the Cornucopia and she swore.

Still, she kept digging for the arrows. They would have to make do. All they needed was a big enough distraction to get out of there.

Clarke picked up the last pack of arrows in the Cornucopia. They sat in a plastic case and had bright yellow feathers. Across the front of the case, the word _explosive_ was scrawled across. She turned to Bellamy, the arrows in her hand.

"Here." She handed him the package. "We'll do what they're doing. An explosion is a good distraction." Bellamy was already ripping open the packaging as she spoke.

"Good idea, princess," he muttered. "I'll throw one and we'll run in the opposite direction. As soon as the first one goes off, you need to throw one in our path. It'll hide us." He didn't look too confident. "I hope."

They didn't have time to think of a better plan. _They needed to get out of there._

Clarke reached into the package and pulled out an arrow and Bellamy did the same. She tightened the straps on her backpack and holstered her sword. She sucked in several breaths as Bellamy readjusted his grip on the arrow.

 _It'll be fine._

She tried to convince herself that this wasn't the closest to death that she had been yet. _Liar._ Even when she was staring down the Careers, she had her alliance – she had other people that had her back.

 _It was just her and Bellamy now._

They would have to do this together – just the two of them.

Bellamy turned to her and nodded sharply. She returned it and crouched into a running position. They waiting several beats before Bellamy threw the first arrow. As soon as it touched the ground, an explosion went off.

Clarke's ears rang and her vision tilted sideways. Before she could regain her balance she was already moving and her arrow was sailing through the air.

The rain pelted down on her as soon as they left the cover of the Cornucopia. A second explosion went off much closer than she anticipated from her arrow, making him stumble to the side. Clarke caught his elbow with her hands and helped keep him upright.

 _They ran._

She hoped that the two arrows provided enough cover for them to make their escape. Dirt and water flew in every direction from the explosions, making it nearly impossible to see through.

They broke out of the clearing, finally entering back into the city streets. They didn't slow their pace. A tribute knew where they were, which meant they weren't safe.

As they ran, a terrible thought occurred to Clarke.

 _They couldn't go back to the building._

They couldn't go back to the place where their alliance was hiding out. Whoever was trying to kill them _knew_ where they were. They could be watching where they ran and if they returned to camp, they would lead them right to their allies.

Clarke's heart jumped to her throat. _She couldn't risk that._ She couldn't risk the lives of Raven, Monty, Murphy, Lincoln or Octavia. They weren't ready to fight anyone, even if it was just a single person with a bow. They needed to stay away from conflict for as long as possible.

"We can't go back," she hissed to Bellamy. His eyes flashed wildly as he turned to her. She could see the millions of questions running through his mind. "We could be followed. We can't risk it." He stared at her for a long moment. She could see the pain in him. "We'll go back, but not right now. Not when we know someone spotted us."

She knew it would be tough for him to leave Octavia, even if it was for a short period of time. In the arena, a single second could change their world. Being away from Octavia to get supplies was already painful for him; she couldn't imagine what he was feeling knowing he would be away from her for longer.

Finally, Bellamy gave a curt nod. They darted across the street, taking a small walkway between buildings – heading away from their camp. _Heading away from their allies._

They would have to survive on their own for a bit, at least until it was safe to go back.

 _They were on their own._

* * *

 **A little "Easter egg" in this chapter is the fact Bellamy is good with a bow, even though we don't get to see it. If I remember correctly, he's amazing with a bow in the books. I couldn't wait to throw that tidbit in there, so I slipped it in this chapter.**

 **I realize the whole exploding arrows thing doesn't really make a lot of sense, especially considering I'm fairly sure Beetee invented them in** ** _Mockingjay._** **That, and I don't know any of the physics behind explosions, so I'm sure all of my descriptions of them and how they impact human bodies are way off. Even though I like to perfect these things, I'm going to let this slide because it was a lot of fun to write. I'm really sorry if you read this and went "?" because it made no sense.**

 **Here is a list of tributes remaining. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter (none for this chapter). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thank you for reading. Reviews are extremely appreciated!**

 **Happy Conageddon weekend. If you're attending, I hope you have a wonderful weekend meeting the cast. If you're not attending, enjoy all of the content that's sure to be coming!**

 **Paw**


	34. Chapter 34: Warmth of a Fire

**This chapter was originally close to 10k words without editing, so it's been cut in half. This chapter (plus chapter 35) is by-far my favourite chapter of the full fic.**

 **No warnings that I can think of apply to this chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 34: Warmth of a Fire**

* * *

 _Day 7 in the arena_

* * *

Bellamy had let go of Clarke's elbow several blocks ago as the ran through the city. He had redrawn his sword as soon as they were under the protection of buildings, but Clarke didn't draw hers. She felt like it would slip right out of her hands, her skin was so wet.

She pushed her hair away from her face and cursed it for falling out of the braid. It clung to every inch of her neck and was swept easily into her eyes by the rain. Every step she took, her sock squished in her shoe. _She was soaked._

They ran down a long and narrow alley, getting further and further away from their alliance. If Clarke had to guess, they were on the north side of the city – a place she hadn't been before. Her alliance had gone south for miles and then circled up around the east side of the arena, but never anything more north than the Cornucopia.

It was unfamiliar and terrifying. They both knew the risks they were taking by diverging from the plan.

But they both understood the risks of returning to the camp. _That could lead to their destruction._

At least by going off on their own until the risk passed, they would keep their friends safe. To Clarke, that was the most important thing. She would be okay with death if it meant her friends would survive.

To Clarke, she felt expendable. She didn't really believe that she could make it home. She knew that if a tribute didn't kill her, the Capitol would. To keep her quiet, she would have to die. While death still terrified her, the idea of her friends dying because of a mistake on her part scared her more. She couldn't handle it, if her friends died from something she did wrong.

Her eyes flicked over to Bellamy as they pressed their backs against a brick wall to catch their breath. He scanned the streets vigilantly, observing every inch that he could. _She knew he felt the same way._ He felt expendable – like a sacrifice just waiting to be taken. He only volunteered for his sister. She knew that he never thought he could make it out of the arena. She also knew that he would never forgive himself if something happened to their friends that he could've prevented.

She couldn't help the smile that lifted her lips as she glanced over him. His curly hair had been plastered to his face. It was longer now that the weight of the water held it straight, so the ends almost reached the tip of his nose. He had it brushed messily away from his eyes, making it stick up in all directions. His lips were pressed tightly together and his jaw was locked. She could feel the waves of tension rolling off of him.

"I can see the city edge," Bellamy said. He stepped closer to her so she could hear him over the roaring rain.

Clarke glanced in the direction he was looking in. Between two buildings, she could see the forest. It was interesting to note that this side of the city didn't contain a field like the south side of the city did.

Just beyond the tree line, there was a small body of water. She could see the red seaweed from the other two ponds they had found throughout the arena was growing in there as well. She imagined the dead hands were there too and she quickly looked away.

"Do we continue to run?" Bellamy asked.

"No," she said strongly. They were already at the most northern point of the city, several blocks away from camp. The further they got away from their alliance, the harder it would be to get back to them without catching more attention. They would have to stay somewhere in the city until it was safe to return back to camp. "We need to find shelter."

"We need somewhere that other tributes wouldn't pick." Bellamy was scanning the street again, looking for somewhere good that they could hide.

Clarke glanced over their shoulder, a sense of doom rising in her. They were in an unfamiliar and un-scouted area of the city. Any tribute could be around. At least at the south point, where their camp was, they were constantly on watch. They could see the buildings all around them to keep track of if any tributes were around. _They knew they were safe there._

The north sector of the city was a completely different story.

"There," Bellamy hissed.

He pointed towards a small building a half a block away. The surrounding buildings towered over it, covering it completely in darkness. From what Clarke could see, it was an old clothing store.

It was small – maybe a single room – so a tribute couldn't be hiding. The doors were intact, so they could lock themselves away. There was also only a single small window, which was a stark contrast to the large windows on the shops around them. It was as good as they were going to get.

They took off running towards the abandoned store. Clarke couldn't stop scanning the towering buildings on each side of the street. Her heart was racing and her mind was completely numb from all of the adrenaline in her body. She felt like her head was buzzing and her arms were weightless.

Bellamy didn't hesitate to open the door to the abandoned shop. His sword was drawn as he flew into the building with Clarke right on his heels. She sucked in a breath as they entered the building, preparing her mind for another fight for their lives.

He went further into the shop as she quickly shut the door behind them. He motioned for her to wait as he walked into the large room, looking for signs of other tributes. She glanced around the building.

The shop was small. She couldn't imagine anyone running a business in it – it was only the size of her family's living area back home. But it seemed realistic to the Capitol, apparently.

It was filled with browns and reds, making it feel like a glowing sun. Thankfully, as soon as she stepped into the building, she was filled with warmth. Whether it was because this was the first place she had been in since being in the arena that was enclosed, or if it was because she had just run through the pouring rain, but she was thankful for the shelter the building brought her.

The walls were painted a dark brown and covered in wooden bookshelves. Old books and dusty nik naks lined each shelf. There was so much dust that she couldn't see the titles along the spines of the book.

The rest of the room was filled with old clothing thrown off hangers and scattered across the floor, almost like they had been tossed in there all at once, without a care in the world. The racks that the clothes were supposed to hang on were completely empty, except for a few loose shirts that hung limply from the metal frames.

Clarke couldn't decide if it was supposed to be a book store or a clothing store, but she didn't think it mattered too much. The most important thing was that it looked safe. She could see the entire room, up until the very back wall, perfectly. The only place that Bellamy had to check was behind a counter in the centre of the building, where housed an empty cash register and a mess of clothes hangers. As soon as he poked his head around the desk, he let his shoulders drop.

"We're clear."

Clarke felt a wave of relief wash over her. They were safe, at least for a little bit. She felt almost like she could cry. _That was entirely too close._ She tried to keep her emotions at bay; she knew if she let herself feel them, she wouldn't be able to stop. There were still things they needed to do.

Instead of focusing on the overwhelming feelings climbing up in her, she turned to the door behind her and turned the bolt, locking themselves inside. She turned to where she heard Bellamy rattling with something. He was attempting to lift an empty cloths rack, but wasn't having much success.

"Here. Let me help."

She tugged on the other end of the rack. Between the both of them, they were able to drag it to the door and wedge it under the knob. She felt better knowing that someone wouldn't be able to get inside through the door.

She glanced towards the window on the wall adjacent to the door and chewed her lip. They needed to cover that, especially since the person that was attacking them was using explosive arrows.

She walked to the bookshelf and picked up an arm full of books. She began stacking them against the window as tightly as she could. She wasn't too sure if that would even help their situation or not, but it couldn't hurt. _She wished Raven was there._ She would've known what to do to make the building as safe as possible.

 _But she wasn't. They would have to make do._

Bellamy copied her actions and began to pile as many books into the window sill as possible. He paused as he brushed the dust off of one spine. He smiled fondly and showed it to Clarke. She smiled softly as she examined the cover. It was a book filled with Ancient Greek mythology.

"I used to read these to Octavia," Bellamy mentioned lightly. He stared at it for a moment longer before he also stuffed that into the window sill. Clarke looked at the final book she held and read the cover out loud. Bellamy nodded in appreciation. "That's also a book recounting Greek mythology."

She placed it into the final spot remaining in the window, effectively shutting them into complete darkness. Some sunlight streamed into the room from between the cracks of the books, but it was hardly enough to see the outline of Bellamy's face.

Clarke stared at him for a long moment, too tired to even process her thoughts. She merely examined his face in the darkness, trying to distract herself with every curve of it.

Finally, Bellamy turned away from her. "We need to get away from the window. It'll be safer near the back." He fumbled for her hand in the darkness. Once he twined his fingers with hers, he began to lead them slowly towards the back of the store. Clarke stubbed her toe roughly against an empty clothing rack and swore. Bellamy tugged her closer to his side. "You okay?"

"Just banged my foot. I'm fine."

She couldn't see him, but he must've nodded since he started walking once again. It didn't take them too long to get to the back of the store, where it was even darker than the front. She couldn't even see the general outline of his features anymore. All she could see was his silhouette. She was thankful she was holding onto him, or she was afraid she would've lost him.

"We need to get some light."

Bellamy let go of her hand and stepped away from her. She could faintly see him drop to his knees and slide off his backpack. As he dug around for who knows what, she sucked in a deep breath and shut her eyes. She pressed a shaking hand to her forehead and swallowed thickly.

 _They almost died._

Something unlike anything she ever felt before overwhelmed her. She almost dropped to her knees, the feelings were so intense.

 _They almost died._

If Bellamy hadn't pulled her behind that wall of supplies, the shockwave from the explosion would've killed her. If Bellamy hadn't been standing right beside her, it could've killed him too.

What if the arrow was shot only thirty seconds beforehand, when Bellamy was standing closer to the mouth of the Cornucopia? What would've happened if the person shooting hadn't missed so catastrophically the first time they shot, giving them enough time to find cover?

There were so many things that could've gone wrong. If they had only been a few more feet apart, or if the archer had been more on target the first time, they would've died. There was no question in her mind that the arrow or the shrapnel from the explosion would've killed them.

Her body was shaking. She wasn't too sure if it was from the adrenaline wearing off, from being chilled to the bone from the rain, or from the absolute fear she felt inside of her. She hugged her arms around her middle, trying to keep herself from shivering. She knew that shivering only wasted energy – energy that she couldn't afford.

 _Bellamy had thrown himself on top of her without hesitating._

 _Shit._

He didn't know that the wall of supplies would shield them from the blast. He didn't know that they would both come out without a scratch. _He didn't know._

Oh, gods.

She felt sick to her stomach as things clicked into place.

 _He sacrificed himself._

He jumped in front of a blast to protect her, without knowing he would survive. He was willing to die and keep her safe.

Clarke gripped her upper arms tighter with her fingers and her nails dug painfully into her skin. She sucked in a deep breath as she came to that realization.

 _He was willing to give his life for her._

Only when she realized she would've done the exact same thing for him, she was less terrified.

Bellamy jumped on top of her to keep her safe. If she was given the chance to, she knew she would've done the same. She would've pulled him to the ground and jumped on top of him to keep the blast away.

She was willing to die for him. _That realization came with a start._

 _She didn't know why it was surprising._ This wasn't the first time he risked his life for her, and she had risked her life for his too.

She jumped in front of Lincoln and Murphy when Bellamy was about to be killed.

He dove in after her when she was trapped at the bottom of the lake.

Still, this was the closest they had been to death. If one simple thing had been changed, they would've died.

Her teeth were chattering because she was shaking so hard. Bellamy finally lit a match from his bag and stood back up, the burning piece of wood between his fingers.

"What's the likelihood of finding a candle around here?" He lifted the small flame up so they could both see the outlines of their faces. When he realized how pale and frightened she looked, all lightness disappeared from his face. "Hey. Are you okay?" He quickly scanned her body, looking for any obvious signs of injury. She nodded her head numbly at him.

"Fine. Let's just-"

"Clarke," his voice was filled with unexpected tenderness. She choked on her words as she stared into his face. His eyes danced across her face, examining it closely. Finally, he said, "I know you. You're not fine. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want, but you don't have to pretend you're okay either." He looked at her for a long moment. "I'm going to find a candle or something for light. I'll be right back." She nodded numbly again.

He stepped away from her, taking the small match with him. The flame was quickly eating away the wood, only seconds away from burning his skin. He blew out the fire and reached into his bag to light another match. She watched intently as he walked towards the front of the store, the little orange ball of fire bobbing along beside him.

Clarke shut her eyes and sucked in a breath. She couldn't stop shivering or keep her teeth from chattering. She knew that part of that was because they almost died and they had to run for their lives, but she also knew that her soaking wet clothes weren't helping matters.

She opened her eyes and squinted as she looked around the room. She could hardly see at first, but it was getting easier as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

Bellamy had led them to the furthest corner from the door. Off to the west side of the building was a bookshelf filled with books and small trinkets. She smirked as her eyes fell on a porcelain cat. There was a break between the wall and the bookshelf where she stood, shadowing it completely in darkness. Several empty cloths racks stood a few feet away from her, just like at the front of the store.

Her eyes zeroed in on the clothing that was cast along the floor of the room. She bent down and picked up several pieces of clothes. She glanced around the room and took note of the clothing. The items ranged from dresses, to active wear, to summer attire, bathing suits, and casual.

She shivered once more before she growled. She wasn't going to stay in these clothes any longer.

Clarke stood up shrugged off the backpacks attached to her, leaning them up against the wall. She removed the jacket she wore and tugged off her shirt. The material stuck to her skin uncomfortably from the rain water, making taking it off a challenge. She spread her top and jacket on the clothing rack to dry. She scooped up a simple black shirt from the floor and was about to pull it on.

She chewed on her lip and glanced down at her bra, which was completely soaked.

She let out an exasperated sigh. She glanced across the room, to where Bellamy holding a lit candle and sucking on a finger. She snorted. He must've burnt himself on the second match.

She slipped on the black shirt and undid the Capitol issued bra from underneath, which she hung to dry beside her shirt. She slipped off her boots and cargo pants too, leaving her standing in an extremely baggy shirt which fell to her knees. She reached into the pile of clothing on the floor and pulled out a pair of sweat pants. She almost snorted since they looked like the hem of the pant leg would hang way past her toes.

"I think you'd fit these," Clarke said as Bellamy got closer to her.

She could see him much more clearly under the fire light of the candle. While the single candle didn't do too much to light the room, it was much better than the complete darkness they were in before.

Bellamy walked up beside her and took the pair of pants in his hands. "Thanks."

He set the candle down on the floor a few feet away and started removing his clothes. He set his backpack beside Clarke's and undid the belt that held his sword. He fingered the belt for a long moment before setting that to the side too. She could almost read his thoughts as he did so. It felt wrong to be even a foot away from their weapons, especially after being in so much danger.

Clarke turned away from Bellamy as he undressed himself the rest of the way. She walked towards a corner of the room where clothing had been piled up. She yanked out a pair of shorts and slipped them on under her shirt. The hem of her shirt hung below where the shorts ended, but she felt warmer with the extra layers.

She shivered as she padded across the room, towards the next pile of clothes. The floor was white linoleum and cold on her damp feet. She pulled out another simple black shirt and held it out to examine. She wasn't too sure of Bellamy's clothing size, but it looked like it would most likely fit him. She peeked over her shoulder, back to where he was changing. He had slipped the sweat pants onto his body and was hanging his clothing beside hers to dry.

She chewed on her bottom lip. While neither of them spoke their thoughts, they both knew they shouldn't leave any time soon. They couldn't risk heading back to their alliance, not so soon after they were attacked. They were both preparing for a long day.

Clarke scooped up a wool blanket from the pile of clothing and tucked it under her arm before walking back over to Bellamy. She reached him and handed him his shirt. He smiled in thanks and took it from her.

Despite her best efforts, her eyes fell to his chest. It wasn't the first time she had seen his bare torso, but she couldn't help but marvel at his beauty. His skin was covered in freckles and scars – so many scars. She remembered at the tribute parade, when he was topless in costume, she noticed just how scarred he was. Fresh bruises covered his body too, most likely from the blast, or she assumed so.

He slipped on the shirt and her eyes lifted to meet his. He had a lopsided smirk on as he watched her. She instantly flushed, guilty from being caught staring openly at him. Her redness only made him smile wider.

"All of Panem saw me practically undressed at the tribute parade," he pointed out.

"That's different," she countered.

He slowly walked up to Clarke and wrapped his arms around her, tugging her body close to his. She went willingly, wrapping her own arms around his torso and resting her cheek against the curve of his neck. He leaned over and rested his chin against her temple. She let out the breath she was holding and let the tension leave her body.

 _They were okay._

 _He was okay._

Just being in his arms was enough to calm her racing mind. She had so many thoughts buzzing around, but she was glad that they were both okay.

"Are you okay?" Bellamy asked. His throat vibrated against Clarke's face as she spoke. She nodded her head and pulled away from him. "You were looking really pale earlier. You aren't hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine," she told him again. She stepped away from his arms and fluffed out the blanket she had under her elbow. It was something to keep her distracted. "It's just… so much, you know? We almost died. _You almost died._ " She lifted her eyes at those words and felt her throat constrict. He avoided her gaze. "You do realize that, don't you, Bell? We could've died."

"I'm aware." His voice sounded empty and tied.

She pulled the blanket around her shoulders tightly, wrapping it around her body. She wanted to do anything to busy her hands, in hopes of it calming the storm inside of her. She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into the cocoon from the blanket.

They almost died. He had willingly sacrificed himself for her. They were attacked and could be attacked again. Whoever that shot at them could've watched where they ran and be waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Her eyes flicked over to the door to the store, worry filling her chest. Her hand itched for her sword.

She pulled her attention away from the door. It was locked and they blocked it off. They had run for blocks. She was sure that the person that attacked them wasn't nearby. Plus, if someone had seen them come into the store, she was sure they would've attacked by now.

Bellamy was running his hand through his hair, pushing his dripping locks away from his eyes. He had an expression of pain on his face.

"Hey." She reached for his hand. As soon as their skin made contact, his eyes shot open and locked on hers. He had an unreadable expression on his face. "Are you okay? I'm worried. You're-"

He cupped her face with his hands gently and swooped down to capture her lips in a kiss. She didn't hesitate to respond. She rocked forward onto her toes and threaded her fingers into the back of his hair. His thumb swept across her jawbone and she smiled against the kiss. After a long moment, they pulled away from each other. Both of their chests were heaving as they stared at each other.

"What was that for?" she rasped out. She smiled widely at him, showing him she was genuinely curious, not upset by the kiss.

 _She was far from upset._

Even though they had spent every moment of the last week together, they only snuck a few kisses, which were always very short and chaste. But that kiss was different. It was full of passion and so much care. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of it.

"Because I really care about you, Clarke," Bellamy mumbled. "Do I need a reason to kiss my partner?" She beamed up at him.

"Partner, hey?" She hummed happily. "I like that."

 _She really liked that._

* * *

 **Ahhhh so soft. There really wasn't a good place to split the original chapter, so please excuse that choppy ending. The next chapter will be up on Friday, April 5th!**

 **I'm really curious to know how you're liking the 'day trip' plotline. It wasn't in my original drafts for the fic, but once I imagined it, I knew I had to write it. Let me know your thoughts in a comment.**

 **As always, reviews are extremely appreciated.**

 **Paw**


	35. Chapter 35: Taste of Paradise

**Here's the continuation of one of my favourite chapters. Ever.**

 **This chapter takes place immediately after the last chapter. 0 seconds have passed since that final sentence spoke by Clarke and this opening line.**

 **This is the final chapter for the Conageddon celebration :) I hope everyone attending had a ton of fun, and WOW the content from the convention was fantastic. I loved all the hints about season 6!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 35: Taste of Paradise**

* * *

 _Day 7 in the arena_

* * *

As she echoed his words back to him, he smiled softly at her. He brushed her wet hair off of her neck and pulled a face when his hand got wet. She shook her head teasingly and stepped away from him.

"How long do you think we're going to stay here?" she asked.

Bellamy looked towards the front door, a look of seriousness overcoming him. All signs of joking had vanished. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Until nightfall," he determined finally.

He looked torn up about that decision and Clarke knew it was because of Octavia. They would be away from their alliance for _hours_. She knew that being away from Octavia was hard for Bellamy. He liked to protect her, and the best way he could do that was if he was by her side.

"They'll be okay," Clarke reassured him. They both knew Octavia would be able to take care of herself, as would the rest of the group, but that didn't make things any easier.

"They're going to worry," he pointed out. He sounded exhausted. "We said we would be back in an hour, but we won't be able to return for a full day. They'll think something happened to us." He fell silent for a long moment. He turned back to her, his eyes wide and face drained of blood. He looked like he was going to get sick. "Shit. What if they go looking for us?"

Clarke's heart dropped to her stomach.

 _She hadn't thought about that._

"They won't." Her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her.

As soon as he mentioned it, she was scared about it too. _Their allies could go looking for them_. They could head to the Cornucopia, searching for them. They would be walking towards their deaths, if the archer was still around.

From what she seen of Octavia, she would be worried sick about Bellamy. She would want to go looking for them. Their canons wouldn't go off, so they wouldn't think they were dead. But they might think they could've gotten captured somewhere, or be laying in the field dying. Octavia would want to go looking for them, to try and save them. The only reason she knew her brother wouldn't return to her was if he was dead, dying, or locked up.

"Murphy," she spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. Hope filled her chest. "He won't let anyone leave. Not for us."

"Octavia won't listen to him," Bellamy insisted, panic in his voice. She wanted desperately to calm him. "She doesn't answer to anyone except herself."

"Murphy is all about self-preservation, but that extends to the group, too. We can trust him. He'll keep everyone at camp." Clarke sent Bellamy a sideways glance, unsure how he was going to take what she had to say next. "Lincoln will listen to Murphy, and Octavia will listen to Lincoln." Bellamy didn't react to her bringing up Lincoln and Octavia's connection, which she was happy about. "It'll work out. It'll be okay." Clarke stepped up to his side and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "We can head back if you want?"

"No." He shook his head quickly, unfreezing his body. "That'll be too risky. We need to wait until we can get out of here unnoticed." He rubbed his face tiredly. "I'm just really worried."

"She won't be able to walk on her own," Clarke promised him. "She's healing, yes, but she won't be able to get far without help. The alliance will stick together, and Murphy won't be willing to let anyone go after us. If Octavia wants to go, she'd be going by herself, and she won't make it down the stairs."

While she couldn't say for sure she wouldn't be able to make it too far, Clarke was fairly confident with her assessment. She would be taking her first steps in a week today. If it wasn't her wound that would prevent her from walking, it would be her legs. They were underused, so it would be nearly impossible for her to walk long distances.

Bellamy looked at Clarke for a long moment before nodding. He let out a groan and dropped his head into his hands. She chewed on her lip as she watched him. He was really torn up about leaving Octavia.

"She won't be able to go anywhere without being carried," she told him again. She would say these words over and over until he felt reassured enough. She wished she could take all of his pain and worries away. "They won't come looking for us. They know better." The more she spoke, the better she felt about the situation. She just had to hope that she had evaluated her group properly and that Murphy wouldn't disappoint her.

"You're right," Bellamy said after a moment. He still looked concerned. "Octavia was telling me earlier that she could hardly wait until she could try walking, but how sore her legs were. Even if she wanted to – which she will – she won't be able to make it all the way to the Cornucopia." Clarke squeezed his arm in silent comfort. "You're right." He nodded and he looked like he was convincing himself. "You're right." He let out a breath and shook his head.

Clarke wasn't too sure what to say to him to make him feel better. If she was being honest, she felt terrified about the whole situation too.

Instead, she pressed a quick kiss to the top of his shoulder and rested her cheek against his neck. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, effectively guiding his back flush against her front. His shoulders drooped and his head lulled back to rest against the crook of her neck. Her hand trailed to rest over his heart. She could feel the tension in his body evaporate away.

"We'll get back to them as soon as we can," she promised. Bellamy nodded in agreement, his eyes remaining closed. "We'll have dry clothes. We'll bring more supplies than we can handle. Murphy will probably tease us for the next year about coming back to camp in the middle of the night. Octavia will mostly be pissed that you made her worry. Monty will actually be the only one _actually_ _worried_ about us and Raven will be examining every inch of us to make sure we aren't secretly hiding fatal wounds." Bellamy snorted at this. "And Lincoln will most likely pull you into this weird brotherly hug, which makes us _think_ he was worried, but also… It's Lincoln. When can we ever tell?" Bellamy smiled slightly. She buried her nose into his hair, ignoring the fact it was still dripping wet. "It'll be okay."

"Thanks, princess," he told her affectionately. She smiled at this and pressed a quick kiss to the back of his head. After another minute of the hug, she released him and stepped towards the glowing candle on the floor. "We should try to find a few more of them. I can't see shit."

 _That,_ and she knew it would be a good distraction for both of them. It would keep their minds off worrying about their alliance, and also get her moving. She was freezing, even with a change of clothes and a blanket around her shoulders.

They eventually found a box of candles and dusty plates after digging around the store for a bit. While they were looking, Clarke found a pillow and turned to him excitedly.

"Look!"

He looked at it and scrunched up his nose. "It smells like mould."

She pulled a face. "Don't ruin this, Blake. I'm finally going to have somewhere to put my head other than my arm."

She tossed it back over to the corner that they claimed, already feeling excited over the prospect of using it. Bellamy shook his head amusedly at her antics and turned back to his hunt.

Clarke managed to find two more blankets as they dug around. She happily tossed them over to their corner and pulled the wool one tighter around her shoulders. Just like the pillow, she hadn't used a blanket since her time spent in the Capitol. They only had the one blanket for their whole alliance, but it was being used mainly for Octavia.

Bellamy lit three more candles and positioned them along the ground at the back of the store. Clarke laid one of the blankets down on the ground, behind the bookshelf along the west wall, and sat down on it. As soon as Bellamy had finished setting up the candles around the room, he came to join her. As he climbed onto the ground, he sent Clarke a look that she couldn't decipher. Her heart skipped a beat. He looked so soft and tender in the low lighting, especially when he looked at her like _that._

"What?"

"This is the first time we're actually alone and not running for our lives," he pointed out. "Other than back at the Capitol." Clarke knew what he was thinking when he said that. The only other times they got alone were when they sat on the roof together, or when he pulled her into a hallway after assessments.

"It is, isn't it?" She felt her lips quirk up in a smile. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and tucked her toes under her legs more. After running around in the rain and standing in wet clothes for hours, she was frozen. She wasn't sure she would ever get warm again.

"You're cold," Bellamy pointed out. She nodded sheepishly. He smiled and opened his arms, inviting her into his embrace.

She eagerly scooted across the floor until she was pressed neatly into his side. Before he wound his arm around her frame, he reached towards the edge of the wall and pulled the third blanket Clarke found towards them. He placed it on top of their bodies and wrapped his arm around the girl beside him.

He propped his back up against the wall and the bookshelf, effectively hiding majority of their bodies from view of the front door. Clarke couldn't help but notice that he had positioned their swords only a foot away from where they sat.

Clarke curled into his side, relishing in his warmth. If there was one thing she knew for certain about Bellamy was that he was _always_ warm, no matter what. Even though he had been in the rain for just as long as she had been, he somehow managed to feel so warm. She rested her head against his shoulder and sucked in a deep breath.

He was right. The blankets and the pillow smelt like mothballs and mould. She wrinkled her nose and leaned closer into Bellamy. That was another thing that she knew about him – he always smelt _good._ He smelt like the Earth around them. He smelt like _home._

"This feels entirely too domestic," Bellamy pointed out suddenly. Clarke cracked a smile at that and pulled away to look at him. "It's true. We're sitting in a store with fresh clothes on, wrapped in blankets, and illuminated by candle light."

She stifled a laugh. "Illuminated," she echoed teasingly. He snorted at that. "It feels weird."

"Really weird."

It was nice, don't get her wrong. She hadn't felt so comfortable in years. _But it wasn't normal_. It was something that she hadn't ever experienced before, especially not with Bellamy. She had only known him once they got to the Capitol, which meant they never had time for luxury. The closest moment that they had to that one was when they would sit together on the roof to talk.

Bellamy was right; it felt domestic. It felt normal. _Even though they both were thinking about the fact someone might be hunting them._ Being curled against Bellamy and being wrapped in blankets was a luxury she never thought she would get. She thought their short time together would solely be spent on the run, sleeping in the cold, and being hungry.

 _It was so beyond nice that Clarke didn't know what to do with it._

It felt like they were normal, even for a second. She didn't feel like they were in the Hunger Games or that they just ran away from their deaths. She wasn't even sure if she felt like she lived in Panem in that moment. It felt too good for Panem. It felt like it belonged on a different planet.

Clarke played with the hem of Bellamy's shirt, both too content to continue with their conversation. Instead, she chose to listen to the steady rhythm of Bellamy's heart beat and breathing.

The silence felt weird. Sure, they sat silently as they stayed up all night on watch. They would just watch the stars together, happy to be beside each other. They didn't speak every second of the day at camp. _Of course, they didn't spend every second of the day with each other either._ But when they had time together, they would sit silently sometimes.

But this was different. It felt… too good. It felt like she should've been on edge, or she should have been waking up for a dream. Or maybe she should've been waiting for another explosion. Regardless, Clarke felt like there was _something_ off about just sitting there.

Still, it felt good to be wrapped up against Bellamy. His hand trailed lazily along her arms, drawing random shapes on her bare skin. Goose bumps appeared along her arm from his feather light touch.

"Hm. Didn't know you were ticklish," he observed. Clarke elbowed him lightly.

"Don't think about it," she warned. He snorted and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head.

Her hand had dipped below the edge of his shirt and she began to copy his actions by tracing patterns across the skin of his waist. When she got too close to his side, he squirmed away.

"I didn't know you were ticklish either," she commented lightly. Bellamy laughed at this and playfully batted her hand away. She moved it slightly, so she wouldn't be passing by his obviously ticklish side. She would have to remember that for later – it might come in handy.

Clarke rested her hand against his back, still under his shirt. As soon as she began to trace patterns, he let out a small hiss of pain and recoiled from her touch. She froze and looked at him, clearly confused.

His eyes were wide and his jaw locked when he spoke. "Shit. Sorry." His lips were pressed tightly together. Clarke looked puzzled.

"You sounded hurt." She rolled onto her knees beside him, letting the blankets drop to the ground beside her. "What's wrong?" He stared at her for a long moment before he blew out a breath of air.

"I'm pretty sure it's just bruised," he told her. He leaned forward from the wall slightly so she could lift the back of his shirt up. She did and frowned when she seen his back. It looked like it was taking on a purplish colour.

"That's definitely bruised," she agreed. She pulled down his shirt and pressed her lips tightly together. It was from the explosion, no question about it.

"I'm fine," he promised as soon as he seen her expression. "Seriously, I didn't notice until just then. I'm fine." Clarke frowned and ran her hand through her hair again.

"You got that from the explosion," she pointed out. He didn't disagree with her. A funny feeling filled her. _He jumped in front of the blast for her._ He was willing to die for her. Clarke chewed on her lip, unsure about how to approach the topic. "Bellamy, you could've died."

"But I didn't." He leaned forward again, reaching out for her hands. She grasped his tightly, needing to feel him, needing to convince herself that he was okay. "Any of us could die, Clarke. But I didn't. You didn't. We are both okay. We both lived. _It's okay_."

"But you jumped on top of me," she pointed out. Her mind drifted back to her earlier thoughts. _What if things went differently?_ What if the arrow had been shot a little closer into the Cornucopia? What if the first one didn't go off, warning them of the attack? He could've died. "Bellamy, _you could've died."_

"Hey." His voice had taken on that soft tone again, the one that she loved so much. He opened his arms again, inviting her to sit back beside him. Her heart clenched painfully as she thought of the millions of different outcomes. "Come here."

Instead of sitting beside him, she pulled herself onto his lap. He adjusted his grip on her as she settled on his body, a warm smile coming over his features. She just wanted to feel him – every inch of him.

 _He was okay._

She needed that reminder.

"I just… You shouldn't risk your life for me," she told him. He frowned at her. "I'm serious, Bellamy."

"I am being serious, too, when I say _that's not going to happen._ I really care about you, Clarke. You're important to me. If I can do something to keep you from getting hurt, I'll do it without hesitation, just like I'd do for Octavia, and just like you'd do for our allies." He sent her a knowing look. She bit her lip and glanced away.

He was right. She would instantly jump on top of any of her allies to protect them, just like Bellamy did to her. She would easily give her life for her friends, without a second thought.

"Yeah, but…" While she wasn't upset about what he did, there was something tugging on her, a feeling she couldn't exactly place. It felt like lava as it scorched her insides, but it wasn't unpleasant.

She didn't want to see him get hurt because she didn't want to lose him. _That's why she was so upset._ She would've done the exact same thing for any of her friends without a question, he was right. But, somehow, knowing _he_ could've died made her fingers go numb and her breath catch in her throat.

"You could've died," she repeated. She twisted in his lap so their noses were almost touching. She stared deeply into his eyes, focusing on the deep brown they were. People always said that eyes were the windows to the soul, and she could easily believe it with Bellamy. She could read his every emotion – she could _feel them._ He looked at her, a small smile on his lips. "Thank you."

"Thank you means it was a favour," he mumbled. She could feel his breath from his words wash over her face. "It wasn't a favour. I did it because I don't want to see you hurt."

 _Just like she didn't want to see him hurt._

Before she knew it, her mouth was on his in a passionate kiss. She twisted in his grasp so her legs were on either side of his and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. She laughed against the kiss out of pure joy. He pulled away as she giggled, looking at her with a half-smile.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbled affectionately, his hand running up her back, leaving a trail of chills in his wake. His hand came up and cupped the side of her face tenderly, his thumb sweeping across her jaw bone again. Her eyes fluttered close and a small smile lifted her lips. "Gods, Clarke." She wasn't too sure why, but those two simple words sent a flood of affection and love through her.

Her lips crashed down on his again, her one hand somehow finding its way to be tangled in his hair. The other drooped down to rest over his heart, her fingers curling around the material of the soft black shirt. His fingers brushed her hair off her neck, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire every where he touched.

She leaned forward slightly, trying to press herself tighter to him. She wanted every inch of her body to be covered by his. In her mind, she needed _more._ She just wanted him, she wanted to forget about everything else.

And for those few blissful moments, she did. She forgot that dozens of cameras were most likely zoomed in on them. She forgot that people from all over Panem were watching their every move. She forgot about the thundering rain and the wicked winds. She forgot about how close she was to losing him earlier that day, and she forgot about the attack.

For those few moments, her mind was _at peace._ For the first time in days, her mind had forgot about _surviving_ and focused on that single moment.

When she pulled back from the kiss, he tilted his head to their foreheads were pressed together. They both gasped for air, both with dangerously pleasant smiles on their faces. Bellamy's hand dropped from her face and wound around her body, trailing down her back. He let out a short chuckle, making Clarke open her eyes.

"Hm?" she questioned.

They locked eyes and she couldn't help but reciprocate his infectious smile. He reached behind her and tugged the blanket that had tumbled off of them, pulling up and over Clarke's shoulders. She felt like she was wrapped in a cocoon, safe from the rest of the world.

 _It was just her and Bellamy._

"It's nothing," he responded. "I just… For a second there, I could've sworn we were back home, not in the arena." He tried to say it nonchalantly, but she knew how heavy those words really were.

"I felt the same way," Clarke agreed.

He caught her eye and she sensed his confliction. Mainly, it was because she felt the same way. Was it right to feel safe and content while in the arena? Were they bad people for finding happiness while people were dying?

"Wells was the one to tell me that it's okay to love in the arena," Clarke mentioned offhandedly. Lately, she was thinking of his words often. "He said that love is worth fighting for. He told me that we only have a few weeks left, all together, so why waste them trying to ignore how we feel and forgetting who we are?" She brushed her fingers over Bellamy's jaw, a soft smile on her face. "We aren't bad people for being happy."

"I don't think we are," he responded. "Octavia told me the same thing, basically," Bellamy said. "Although, she's a lot less poetic than Wells was."

Her heart stung from him using the past tense about her friend. Even though she promised herself she wouldn't focus on the pain and instead focus on survival, she still hurt from his death.

"She basically told me to stop being an idiot." He let out a laugh; one that made Clarke smile by just seeing. He looked so freaking good when he laughed. "She knew that I was interested in you, even before I knew myself. She's always been good at that, I guess. Knowing me before I really understand." He sighed before dismissing those thoughts. "I wanted my life to be more than what people told me it would be, and I want my death to be that too. I wasn't just going to give up my life without a fight. _And I will go down fighting._ For Octavia." He glanced at her, his expression both tender and determined. "For you."

That was evident from earlier that day. One of the first things that she learned about Bellamy – the _real_ Bellamy, not just his persona – was that he had a big heart. He raised his baby sister from her birth, sacrificed his own education and life goals to support her, and then sacrificed his life to protect her. He wasn't a stranger to sacrifice or love, she knew that. Bellamy Blake cared far too much for what's good for him. He always prioritized his people – _his family._ To him, family came first.

With his words, she felt something shift inside of her. He was willing to give everything for his family; for Octavia. _But he included her too._ It hit her that he had begun to include her in his family. He wasn't only fighting for Octavia anymore – he was fighting for _all_ of them.

She pulled him closer at that thought, which he reciprocated.

Originally, she thought he was an ass. He was rude, arrogant and cocky.

But she was wrong.

Bellamy was one of the softest and most caring people she had ever met in her short life. _He was too good for the world they lived in._ He deserved to live amongst the stars, away from the cruelty of the Capitol.

"Love is worth fighting for," she responded after a while. "The Capitol can take away our freedom. They can take away our voices. They can kill us." She swallowed the lump in her throat. _She had experienced all of that first-hand._ "The one thing they can't do is take away our choice on how to live and how to love. I get to make that choice." She glanced at him. " _We_ get to make that choice." He smiled at that. "If this is going to be one of the last things I have any say over, I'm going to do it. They can't control my life. _I do._ And I say _hell yes_ to love."

"Love, hm?" Bellamy glanced at Clarke out of the side of his eye. His voice wasn't teasing, nor was it harsh. It was curious and soft, almost like he was in deep thought of his own.

 _Love._

That word has been coming to mind too many times to count while in the arena. Her love for her alliance, her care for Bellamy.

 _Did she love him?_

She wasn't sure. It wasn't possible, was it? They knew each other for half a month. Before the Games, he was a complete stranger. Was it even possible to fall in love with someone in such a short amount of time?

Then again, did time even matter? Before the Games, that was the one thing that _did_ matter to her. She focused on every second and every tick of her watch. It was what kept her centred while she sat in lock-up, completely alone. Time passed for every person equally, and that made her feel better somehow.

She was beginning to question that. Even though it was only two weeks since she arrived in the Capitol, it felt like months. It didn't feel like time was passing equally. She felt like she knew Bellamy for much longer than that.

Maybe it was because they were so similar and had connected those first few times they met. Maybe it didn't even matter.

She wasn't sure why, but she felt like she understood him just as well as she understood herself at times.

They went through a lot together. They were in the arena being hunted by other teenagers, and they were _living._ They chose, against all odds, each other. _She chose to be by his side, even though it was dangerous._ And she knew that he chose to stand by hers as well. They trusted each other, even though they knew they shouldn't.

But she knew him. She knew his fears and his dream. _They experienced loss and pain and suffering and longing together._ They faced death on more than one occasion. When it was easy to abandon the other, they didn't. _They chose each other_. They barely survived, and yet, there they were.

 _Together._

Clarke assumed that losing people they loved and fighting for their lives made them closer to each other than any amount of time could have. They experienced suffering and pain together. Despite wanting to be normal, their lives weren't. They weren't just teenagers. They weren't just Bellamy and Clarke. _They never could be._

They were tributes. They were fighting for their lives. They were hunted and thrown into the arena as sacrifices.

While they hadn't spent their whole lives together, their time together was impactful – more than she ever would have thought. Their survival together trumped time. It didn't matter how long they knew each other for because _she knew him._

And she cared about him. _She cared about him so much that she thought it wasn't physically possible._ She was terrified because she didn't want to lose him. She didn't want to compete in the Games without him by her side, encouraging her and supporting her. Somehow, he made their fates more bearable.

 _Maybe she was starting to love him._

No. It wasn't love – not yet, at least. _But it was getting there._ It was so close that she could almost grasp it.

She smiled softly and turned to face him again, pressing a low kiss to his jaw. His arms tightened around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

"Considering we almost got murdered an hour ago, I'm happy," Clarke stated. Bellamy chuckled at that. He didn't seem to mind she avoided the question about love.

"I am, too." He gave her a soft look, one where his eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted. She examined his face and pushed away all thoughts about love and survival and death.

 _All she wanted to focus on was him._

 **Love, love, love this chapter. It's just so soft. AND like UGH. My heart while writing it. Can we get this in canon? Just soft cuddles between Bellamy and Clarke in an abandoned building? Okay, thank youuuuuu.**

 **Here is a list of tributes remaining. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter (none for this chapter). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thank you for reading. I would absolutely love to know any opinions on this chapter, since it's one of my personal favourites! I seriously cannot express my adoration for this chapter and I don't know why.**

 **The next update WONT be on Tuesday, but it will be on Thursday. This is because I posted four days in a row, so I thought it would be best to give a little break!**

 **I'm currently doing some prompt fills over on my Tumblr (pawprinterfanfic). If you have a fic request you'd like me to write, send it over and I'll be more than happy to do it! Thank you :)**

 **Reviews are appreciated!**

 **Paw**


	36. Chapter 36: Home

**And this chapter marks the end of that cute little arc. Like I said, it wasn't in my original plan for this fic, but I had a lot of fun writing it.**

 **No warnings in this chapter, other than for coarse language, as always.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 36: Home**

* * *

 _Day 7 in the arena_

* * *

It was dark by the time Bellamy and Clarke felt it was safe to head back to camp. They had waited for hours in the abandoned store without being attacked again, which gave her a sense of relief, even if it was small. Still, they didn't want to risk bringing other tributes to their camp and waited until they could blend in with the shadows.

If Clarke was being honest, it was almost _nice_ to have the time alone with just Bellamy. Of course, she loved her other allies, but her time alone with Bellamy was pretty sparse. There wasn't a lot of time in the arena for love and just being together.

She felt like her lips were fuller from the amount of time she spent kissing with him. Her heart was lighter and her skin danced with fire. It felt so good to be able to get a part of herself go – the part focused on fear and survival – and just be a normal teenager with him.

 _But now it was back to reality._

As soon as the sun set, she knew that it was time to leave.

Clarke tightened the straps of her backpack around her body. Her clothes were still damp and cold, sending chills through her whole body. She wished she could climb back onto the floor with Bellamy, under layers of blankets. She wished they could continue pretending they weren't in the arena and fighting for their lives.

She stuffed one of the blankets under her arm, as tightly folded as possible. Bellamy had managed to shift his bag around so they could take a few candles with them for light back at camp.

His face was scrunched up as he pulled on his wet jacket. Clarke snorted at his expression. He cocked his eyebrow at her and sent her a small smile. Just seeing how his face lit up in happiness made her heart feel lighter.

It was good, seeing someone that she loved happy and at peace, even for a few hours. She was fortunate to have been able to see Bellamy in that state multiple times, especially while on the roof. When they were together, they seemed to block out the rest of the world.

They walked down the streets as quietly as they could. The rain had stopped thankfully, but their feet still splashed up dirty water from puddles. Clarke clenched her jaw as the water seeped into her pant legs once again. They ducked into doorways and behind buildings every few blocks, trying to keep out of sight of the tallest buildings around. Clarke felt her eyes burning from the amount of time she spent examining their surroundings for any other tributes.

They made it back to the building their camp was located when the Panem anthem began to play. They quickly raced for cover as the night sky lit up, suddenly very aware that the light from the anthem would give their position away. Bellamy shut the door to the stairwell behind him, a half smile on his face. Their eyes met.

 _They were home._

Clarke led them up the stairs as quickly as possible. The stairs fell dark again once the light from the sky disappeared after only a moment. No tributes had died that day, making the announcements from the Capitol very brief.

She clutched her sword in her hand loosely as she climbed towards the tenth floor. A lot could have happened since she was last at camp, including her allies leaving, or the camp being overrun by other tributes. Just because nobody died that day didn't mean something big didn't happen.

She turned the final bend of the staircase, moving she could see the doorway to the room their team was staying in. Just as she did so, she heard shuffling.

"Clarke! Bellamy!" Monty poked his head over the railing, a knife in his hand, ready to be thrown. It clattered to the floor once he realized who it was.

"Monty!" Clarke rushed the rest of the way up the stairs, her sword being shoved back into the holster. She threw up arms around her friend, pulling him tightly. He responded with just as much enthusiasm.

Even though it was a thought that she refused to pay any attention to, she was worried about her friends. She was worried she would never see them again. She was worried something bad might've happened.

"Oh, gods!" Raven's arms were thrown around Clarke's body too, squishing her tightly. "Octavia!" The mechanic pulled away from the hug and poked her head back into the room. "O, they're back!"

Monty released Clarke finally and turned to Bellamy. They stared at each other for a long moment, both unsure of how to greet each other. While they had all grown close over the past week, she knew her allies found it hard to view Bellamy as an equal to the tributes that had been in the alliance since the beginning.

Clarke, Raven and Monty had formed a special bond during those first few days, when it was just them in the alliance. They accepted Lincoln quickly and had slowly accepted Murphy too.

 _It was a different story with the Blakes._

Then, in one swift move, Monty threw his arms around Bellamy and pulled him in for a hug. Bellamy didn't hesitate to return it. Clarke snorted when they both did that awkward pat on the back thing.

As soon as Monty pulled away from Bellamy, Raven was next to pull him in for a hug. Clarke felt her heart warm at that. It seemed like every tension within the group had dissolved. While she knew her friends were reluctant about accepting Bellamy into the alliance and were cautious around him, it seemed like they had finally and truly accepted him.

"I told them that you weren't dead." Murphy walked up to Clarke, but hung back a few feet. He looked cocky. "I'm not hugging you, if you were hoping for that." Clarke rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. _Classic Murphy._ He stared at her face for a long moment before his face softened. "Good to see you, Clarke."

"Bellamy!" The first thing that Clarke realized was that Octavia was walking. Her arm was slung around Lincoln's shoulders and her other pressed tightly to her stomach, but she was upright. It was obviously taking a lot of effort, as sweat lined her forehead and her legs were trembling. "What the actual hell-"

Octavia was cut off by Bellamy pulling her into his arms. Lincoln let go of her side, allowing her to go to her brother. The two Blake siblings melted into each other instantly. Clarke couldn't help but smile at the two of them. She knew how worried Bellamy was, she couldn't imagine what Octavia was like too.

When she pulled away from the hug, tears were streaming down her face and her expression was one of pain. She glanced over his body quickly, looking for any signs on injury.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "O-"

"You suck!" Octavia pushed his shoulder roughly, sending him stumbling back a few steps. Tears were still falling rapidly, but now her face was twisted into anger. "You are the worst, Bellamy. Gods, I was sick with worry!" She pulled him towards her for another hug. Bellamy didn't seem to mind her wild emotions. He just pulled her tighter.

"I'm sorry." He glanced at Clarke over top of Octavia's head. She smiled at him in reassurance. "If we had the choice, we wouldn't have taken so long."

"What happened?" Monty kept glancing back and forth between the two of them, trying to gauge the situation.

Raven glanced at the stairwell behind her and gestured to the room. "Let's move somewhere that sound isn't carried." She led the group back into the small room. As soon as they were all in safely, she turned to Clarke. "We were all worried for you guys. We were tempted to go looking for you."

"Don't worry, I'm not that stupid." Murphy pulled his coat tighter around his torso and dug his hands into his pockets.

"I knew it would be you to talk sense into the rest of them," she told him. He almost looked proud of himself with that statement.

"I stopped them before they could do anything too dangerous." While he wasn't the nicest person, he was trustworthy. If there was anyone concerned about self-preservation, it was him. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Cockroaches gotta live, right?"

"Thank you," she told him. He nodded sharply.

Raven clapped her hands. "Alright. That's enough chatting. We all waited up for them to come back to camp," she said. She straightened her top, which had been skewed from the hugs. "Now, you all head to sleep. We have a schedule to maintain. Monty and I are on watch tonight." Nobody seemed to disagree with what she said. They must've been up all day waiting for them to return, Clarke realized. Raven turned to Bellamy. "Please tell me you got supplies. I'm sick of sharing my knife with Murphy."

"I know you love me." Murphy's voice was cheeky.

"In your dreams, weirdo," she retorted, rolling her eyes. She didn't bother hiding her smile.

As the two of them traded friendly insults, both Bellamy and Clarke took off their backpacks and opened them to show the others. While Bellamy was showing off his items and handing out weapons to their allies, Clarke dug around the bags to find the little black box. She wasn't too sure what was in there, but she was hoping it was something good. It was the only thing locked away in the whole Cornucopia.

Finally, she found it and pulled it out from her bag. It was awkward and heavy, but she hoped that it was worthy bringing. It took up a lot of space – space that could've been used for more food.

"I'm not entirely sure what it is or if it'll be useful, but it looked promising." Raven held out her hand for it and Clarke passed it to her. She lifted the metal lid and peered inside. After a few seconds of examining it, her face lit up. Monty peered over her shoulder and let out a breath of awe. "What? What is it?"

"Explosives," Monty answered. He was already pulling them out of the box and turning them over. Raven slapped his hand and gave him a leery look. He placed it back gently into the box. "They look good. Intact."

"Good," Raven said. Her eyes were dancing. Clarke knew that look. She was coming up with a plan. _Thank the gods for Raven._ "I have an idea. We can use this." Monty glanced at her. She lifted her eyebrows. "Our escape plan."

It only took Monty a few more seconds to put the pieces together. When he did, his face lit up. "Yes." He clapped his hand on Raven's shoulder. "You're a genius."

Clarke lifted her eyebrow, feeling a bit lost. "What?"

" _This_ can be our escape plan." She lifted the black box. Clarke felt like taking a step away from her. Who the hell shook a container of explosives? "If we're ever need to get out fast, we can set them off and make a break for it." _Oh._ Clarke finally put the pieces together. "Just like we did back at the cave. Although, hopefully with more success than we had there."

Bellamy was nodding with a thoughtful expression. "That's one of the reasons we got away safely. Other than you, O," he sent his sister an appreciative glance. "If we set a distraction somewhere, it'll make it easier for us to get out. Good plan, Raven."

She was already pulling the explosives out of the box and examining each item. "We'll have enough to make a decent sized one," she commented. She glanced at the walls of the building, her eyes narrowed. "The structure is made of stone and concrete, other than the stairs that are wood. That means, if we lay the charges every-"

"I'm going to stop you there," Murphy said, his hand in the air. "It's the middle of the night. I'm not on watch. I'm headed to sleep." His smile was sarcastic and forced. "Have fun playing with your toys."

"You're too kind," she said sarcastically. As Murphy walked to his spot, she turned to the rest of the group. "Monty and I will set these up tonight." Clarke's eyebrows pushed together. Right now? So late? Before she could say anything, Raven was talking again. "Just in case. We didn't know we were going to get attacked back at the cave and the trap gave us enough warning to get organized." She shrugged. "It shouldn't take long. We're on watch anyways."

"As long as you're okay with doing it tonight, then I'm all for it," Clarke agreed.

Raven smiled. "The only thing I'm missing the the remote activator. Can I look in the bag?" She was already reaching for the bag that the metal box had come out of. Clarke handed it to her with a yawn. After all that had happened today, she was exhausted.

"I'm sorry for making you worry," Bellamy said again to Octavia. The youngest Blake shrugged her shoulders and sent him a crooked smile.

"You said it yourself. It wasn't on purpose. You wanted to get back, but you kept us safe." She leaned forward and hugged him again. "I love you, big brother."

"I love you too, O. Now get some sleep. You look terrible."

She pulled back, rolling her eyes. " _Wow._ Thanks." Even though she sounded sarcastic, she followed Bellamy's suggestion. She said goodnight to Lincoln and curled up on her blankets on the floor.

Clarke turned to Bellamy. "Good to be back?" she questioned.

He sighed. "It's good to be home," he agreed. Just as he was about to say something more, Raven drew their attention.

She glanced up from the bag, her lips pressed together tightly. "It's not in here." She let the bag fall to the ground. "You guys did grab it, didn't you?"

They looked at each other.

 _Did she?_ She really couldn't be sure. She grabbed so many things at the Cornucopia that it began to blur together. Between someone trying to kill them and her not knowing what she was grabbing, she didn't know.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Clarke admitted. She shifted awkwardly. She hoped she didn't just ruin Raven's plans. "I threw whatever I seen into the bag. Before we could check we had everything, we were getting attacked. I guess I didn't grab it." Raven's face was unreadable and Clarke was fearing the worst. "Why? What does it do?"

"It's the remote activator," she said, like it explained everything. Clarke cocked her eyebrow and Raven grumbled under her breath. "It means we could activate the explosives from a safe distance away. Without it…" She rubbed her face tiredly. "Without the remote, we can't use them."

Clarke's heart shattered.

 _They needed a plan for escape_. They weren't going to last the entire Games hidden away in their camp without another conflict. She knew that they would have to leave their camp sometime, whether it was on their terms or not.

And, she hated to even think about it, if they needed to escape another attack, they needed those explosives.

 _Fuck._

"No," Monty said quickly. He took one of the explosives in his hands and turned it over a few times. "It just means someone would have to activate it manually." Raven let out a sound of agreement.

Clarke felt panic rise up in her. If someone would activate in manually, they wouldn't be able to get out in time. Right? She wasn't the most knowledgeable about explosives, but that made sense. If there wasn't a remote, someone would have to press the button themselves.

 _For the explosives to work, someone would have to sacrifice themselves._ She felt sick just thinking of it.

"What?" Bellamy gained the ability to speak quicker than she did. He was shaking his head furiously. "No. _Hell no_." Bellamy stepped forward quickly, reaching for the explosive. Monty quickly stepped out of his path, pulling the charge to his chest. Bellamy wasn't impressed. "Monty, give it here."

"Bellamy, no. You don't understand-"

"We aren't using something that would kill one of us." His face was stone and the muscles in his jaw were locked. He looked like an unmovable force, both physically and with this decision.

"Monty's right," Raven argued, pushing Bellamy out of the way. He stumbled back, clearly surprised with her decision. "You misunderstood."

Bellamy looked confused and Clarke felt the spark of hope growing in her. _Maybe things would work out?_ She didn't know anything about explosives, so maybe she assumed wrong, just like Bellamy did.

"We can still use them," Raven insisted. "Activating manually doesn't mean someone has to die to do it. It just means they have to run _really freaking fast_ to get out of the blast zone." She nodded, already making up her mind. "It's not a big deal. Not optimal, but we'll make it work."

Bellamy didn't look convinced. "Nobody has to get hurt?"

"Nobody will have to get hurt," she promised. While that set Clarke at ease, she was still worried. So many things could go wrong. "These things are built to have a delay for this reason. It's probably ten seconds, which means whoever sets them off will just have to sprint away to clear the blast zone. It'll just be a different procedure." Raven waved her hand. "It'll be fine."

Clarke was reluctant to agree. "I don't know…" She chewed on her lip.

Raven gave her a hard look. "I'm telling you; it'll work. I'm a professional." She smirked. "Sorta." Monty snorted at that. "I'm serious though. We can still use these. There's a short delay from them being lit and them going off – more than enough time for someone to get out of there safely."

She didn't have any ground to stand on to argue. Raven knew better than her, and she looked confident with this solution. Clarke believed her.

She nodded in agreement. "If it doesn't mean sacrificing someone to set them off, then do it. Any escape plan is better than nothing." Raven lit up again and turned to Monty, discussing their plans. Clarke glanced at Bellamy. He still looked unsure. "They're smart. They can figure it out."

He nodded his head, but his shoulders didn't relax. "I know. I just don't want this set up and the only way to use it to be to sacrifice someone." Clarke had similar fears. She didn't want to see anyone get hurt.

She walked over to where they slept and let out a small yawn. "She said no sacrifices." She dropped to the ground, Bellamy following her. As soon as he was seated beside her, she leaned into his side with a content sigh. Instantly, warmth and the feeling of safety flowed through her. "I think I'm going to take you up on your offer."

Bellamy lifted his head up. He didn't have to question what she was talking about – he already knew. "Oh?"

"Yeah." She tried to keep the smile off her face. "I think you're going to be _way_ comfier than the wall."

Her eyes were already drooping shut. Bellamy pulled her against his side again, just like how they sat for hours at the shop. She nuzzled her head into his arm and allowed her eyes to flutter closed.

"Goodnight, Clarke."

"Goodnight."

* * *

 _Day 8 in the arena_

* * *

"I need to check your stitches," Clarke told Octavia.

It was noon the next day and Octavia was practicing walking with Bellamy. The two Blake siblings obviously missed each other a lot, since they didn't let each other out of their sight.

The youngest Blake was clinging to Bellamy's side for support, but Clarke could still see sweat pooling on her forehead. She looked exhausted from standing upright for so long.

She nodded faintly and Bellamy helped her back onto the floor.

The rest of the group was sitting around the small room they called home, each absorbed in their own conversations. It felt good to be back with everyone, surrounded by people she loved and cared about. Her alliance felt like her family. She didn't want to think about how different the Games would be if they weren't altogether.

 _She didn't want to think about how different it would be when they were all separated._

That was the thing about alliances in the Hunger Games; they always had to come to an end, one way or another. Once it got down to the final people, alliances would split up and go their own ways. _Or they would turn and kill each other._

Regardless, nothing lasted forever in the arena.

They were already pushing their luck. Other than their alliance, only the Careers, Murphy's district partner, and the male tribute from District 10 was left. Clarke felt like the were on borrowed time.

"Okay, so spill." Raven had broken off her conversation with Lincoln and turned to face Clarke and Bellamy. "What the hell happened yesterday?"

While they had been back for a full night and the morning, they hadn't discussed what actually happened. Clarke was suspecting someone to ask sooner or later.

"We got the supplies," he stated simply.

The supplies they gathered had already been spread across the room, covering almost every inch of the floor. Weapons were laying around and food was left in piles. Seeing all of their supplies together was surprising to her. When it was in backpacks, it looked like a lot less stuff.

Clarke leaned over to the side and began rummaging around for medical supplies. She needed to clean and bandage Octavia's wounds immediately. She lifted up Octavia's shirt and removed the old bandages.

She was once again surprised at how fast her wound had healed, all thanks to the Capitol's medicine. Where her torso had been almost cut wide open only sat angry red scars and a faint line of an open wound. She knew that she would still be healing long after the wound looked closed over, but this was a _really_ good start. Whatever the medicine that they sent Octavia was saved her.

"That's great and all, but that doesn't explain why you two never showed back up. This shouldn't have taken all day," Raven pointed out. Bellamy sighed and leaned forward, examining Octavia's wound too. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"We were attacked." At Bellamy's words, the rest of the group fell silent. "At the Cornucopia, we were almost killed. Someone was shooting explosive arrows at us. It's a miracle that we both made it out of there alive, without any injuries."

"Arrows?" Murphy scoffed, clearly not happy. "Fucking Echo, man."

"Echo?"

He rolled his eyes. "She's my district partner." _Ah. So that was her name._ "She was always quiet and we tried to stay away from each other, but I heard my mentor talking to her about archery. Apparently she's really good at it."

Raven snorted. "You heard them talking, or you purposefully snuck around so you could listen in on their conversation."

Murphy looked pleased with himself. "You already know the answer to that, Reyes."

Raven rolled her eyes, but her wide smile gave away the fact that she was amused. She turned to Clarke. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"It was terrifying," Clarke continued. "We didn't have anywhere to go except to run into the fire. They cornered us completely." Her throat felt tight just thinking of it. "It's awful to think about what would've happened if Echo's aim had been just a little bit better." She swallowed thickly. "We wouldn't have been as lucky as we were." The group looked horrified.

"But we're okay," he urged. "We couldn't wait and be cornered or picked off, so we had to come up with a different plan. Clarke and I threw some of the arrows out the mouth of the Cornucopia to bring up some cover while we escaped."

Murphy snorted. "Damn. Here I thought you two just got lost on your way home."

Bellamy's lips quirked up at that. "We didn't want to come right back to camp after we were spotted. We didn't know if the person shooting us was watching or not. We didn't know if there were any other tributes around that spotted us after all the noise."

As Bellamy spoke, Clarke dumped some antiseptic onto Octavia's wounds. Her muscles clenched and her face skewed up into pain. She apologized quickly, and added to Bellamy's thoughts. "We didn't want to lead anyone back to camp, on the off chance someone was watching us."

"Smart," Raven commented. Lincoln mumbled something in agreement.

"We hid for the rest of the day in a small shop just north of here. It's a good place to go, if any of us are ever separated," Bellamy said. Clarke liked that plan. "It was on the outskirts of the city, so it's a good place to be if we need to escape quickly. It was also on an outer road, which isn't travelled as frequently as the roads surrounding the Cornucopia."

"Plus, there was only one door and window, so it was easy to block off." Clarke pushed the blanket that she had carried from the store from yesterday, sliding it towards Bellamy. He picked it up and tossed it at Raven. She lifted it up to examine. "It was a thrift store, I think. It had books, clothing, bedding, candles. Basically anything we needed." Raven passed the blanket across the room to Lincoln.

"And… you two just _hung out_ all day, huh?" Raven lifted her eyebrows suggestively at Clarke. She felt her cheeks heat up. She ducked her head and continued to work on bandaging up Octavia.

"There wasn't anything else to do," Bellamy replied, his voice even. He handed Clarke a knife to cut the gauze. She wasn't too sure if she should've still been wrapping the wound, but she didn't want to risk it. She would rather waste some supplies on keeping it clean and dry than have it get infected later. "We didn't want to come back and risk everyone."

"You were safe and we were safe." Octavia tried sitting up a bit but winced. "We're all together again. That's all that matters."

Raven caught Clarke's eye from across the room. She lifted her eyebrows. "I wasn't meaning that," she commented lightly.

Clarke knew exactly what she was asking. She wanted to know what they did while they were hiding.

"I know," Bellamy said, sounding amused. "I'll assure you we kept it appropriate for the viewers back home. PG and all that shit." Clarke snorted at that.

"What's PG?" Murphy looked just as curious as Raven did.

"It's something I learned in history from civilization before the war and Dark Days," Bellamy explained. "It's how people used to limit the audience on media. PG meant it was completely fine for children to watch."

"How does PG mean that?"

Bellamy shrugged. "Hell if I know."

"You're a nerd," Raven muttered, smirking. "But I get it. You don't kiss and tell." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Gods, I don't want to think about what they were doing other than kissing," Murphy groaned, burying his face behind the flap of his hood.

"Screw off, Murphy."

He didn't look any less disturbed. "Can we move on? Please?"

Raven looked coy. "Murphy is saying please? Wow. He must be really uncomfortable when talking about _emotions_ and _feelings._ "

Murphy chucked the blanket he held at her head and gave her the middle finger. She batted it out of the air and burst out laughing. Clarke rolled her eyes and smirked at the two of them. They were always entertaining to watch.

"Raven poking her nose in someone else's business? Why am I not surprised?" Raven gave him the finger back. Murphy snorted at that.

"I've had to deal with these two bickering all day," Lincoln complained, looking exhausted. "Thank gods you came back when you did. I was tempted to put Murphy in a time-out on the roof."

Murphy stuck his nose into the air. "I would have enjoyed that, I'll let you know."

"That punishment is too kind. He actually _likes_ being alone," Monty said. "We'd have to find a better way to torture him than being alone. I was thinking of sticking Raven and him in a friendship shirt, if we had one." Raven swore at him and playfully pushed his shoulder.

Lincoln looked confused. "Friendship shirt?"

"Yeah, please explain," Octavia added.

"Back home, my parents would always put me in this huge shirt with someone else if we were ever fighting. We'd be stuck together until we worked out our problems. It was my parents' way of problem solving."

Bellamy raised his eyebrow. "How many times were you put in there?"

"With Raven? Too many to count. She always loved breaking my toys when we were younger."

Raven cried out with indignation. " _Not true!_ You make me sound like a bully." She turned to the group, determined to clear her name. "I would only break his toys so I could figure out how to put it back together again. It was educational." She sent a look at Monty. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Sure. It was all _educational_ until you absolutely wrecked my toy train. After you got a hold of it, it could only drive backwards." Murphy stifled a laugh at that.

"You never talk about your life before the Games," Octavia pointed out. She sat up partially, with the help of Bellamy and Lincoln. "You two knew each other?"

"Since we were young," Raven said. Monty smiled wistfully as she spoke. "We went to school together. In District 3, all children go to the same school when they're young. We're taught a little bit of everything; mechanics, plant science, hydraulics. Just the basics, obviously. When we're older, we pick which stream we want to learn more about and eventually get a career in."

"We were always put in the same classes when we were little. Raven obviously went on to do mechanics and I did plant sciences, but we knew each other."

"And you were friends?"

"Yeah."

"And you were both reaped?" Octavia shifted. "That's unlucky."

"Everyone of the same age knows each other," Raven explained. "We all used to take the same classes and go to the same school. If I was reaped with anyone else my age, I think I would feel the same way as I do about being reaped with Monty. That's just how our district works."

"Yeah, we're taught that teamwork is important. Working alone never gets you anywhere, especially in our fields. We need to learn to cooperate and share discoveries." Monty bumped his shoulder with Raven. "It's not like we were best friends or anything. We had the same friend group and mutual friends, but… You know."

"Aw. That's code for _I love you,_ isn't it?" Raven threw her arms around her shoulders jokingly and pulled him into a hug. He went willingly.

"And you knew Charlotte," Octavia pointed out, turning to Lincoln. Clarke stiffened at hearing her name.

"Yeah, my sister was her age." Lincoln looked uncomfortable talking about it. "They weren't best friends, but she talked about her sometimes. They would be partners on projects and walk home together. I didn't know her, really. I don't think I spoke a word to her before the Games. But… I knew her." He paused for a moment. "It makes it harder – to know that she was just a kid, and to think about who she became." He sighed and shook his head. "That's the Hunger Games, though. People change."

The silence that followed that was heavy. Clarke felt it settle on her shoulders, weighing her down.

 _She wished they never had to change._

"Shit, am I the only one here that absolutely _hated_ our district partners?" Murphy asked after a moment, breaking the tense silence. Clarke glanced around the room, a heavy feeling settling over her. Raven knew Monty. Lincoln knew Charlotte. Bellamy and Octavia were siblings. She was best friends with Wells.

"I guess so. I never really thought about it," she said.

Murphy pulled a face. "Yeah, I try not to think about her either. She's kinda rude." Lincoln laughed at that. "I'm serious!" He sat up straighter, like he was just about to gossip. "The first night, right after the Peacekeepers talked to me about fighting other tributes, she told me how stupid I was."

Raven let out a little burst of laughter.

"Gods, she said that?" she giggled. Murphy pulled a sour face. "She's not wrong, but I can't believe she would say that to your face."

"Maybe she was looking out for him?" Monty offered hopefully. That was one thing Clarke liked about him; he was always looking for the good in people and the world. "I'm pretty sure after you fought him, I said the same thing to you and I'm not a jerk. Or I hope I'm not."

Raven playfully narrowed her eyes at Murphy. "Oh, yeah. Don't think I forgot about how you almost got me arrested!"

Murphy smirked. "Never going to let that one go, are you?"

Monty was trying his best to suppress a laugh, but he couldn't. He let out bursts of laughter. "Now that we don't hate Murphy, can I just say how ridiculous that was?"

Bellamy cast Clarke an odd look. "I think I missed something," he said.

"Yeah, definitely." Octavia echoed, leaning forward. "You two almost got arrested? For what?"

Raven was still playfully glaring at Murphy. "We got into a fight when we arrived in the Capitol," she said simply.

Murphy rolled his eyes. "More like I had an accident and you attacked me."

"You pushed me to the ground."

"I _bumped_ into you. You're the one who kicked my ankle."

"You started it."

"What, are you two?"

Clarke was convinced an argument was going to break out between Raven and Murphy. Clarke knew how upset Raven was from their confrontation the first day in the Capitol – it put both of them at each other's throats. Now, it didn't look too different than their arguments back in the Capitol. Raven's eyes were narrowed, Murphy's jaw was locked.

Then, both Raven and Murphy shared a long look before they both burst into laughter. Raven doubled over, clutching her stomach. It took a moment for Clarke to fully absorb what was going on. They were laughing?

She realized they were _joking_ and not actually arguing. She had to crack a smile at it all. She never thought she would see the day where both Murphy and Raven would be laughing about the time they almost killed each other and got arrested.

Bellamy and Octavia looked at each other, clearly confused. "What?"

"Yeah, I think I missed something." Lincoln also looked fairly confused.

Monty sighed and looked at Raven and Murphy for a long moment. Seeing as they were too busy laughing, he decided to explain what happened. "Our districts arrived at the train station at the exact same time," he began. "Murphy happened to walk off his train with a chocolate milkshake just as Raven was walking past the door. They bumped into each other and Raven got covered in chocolate."

"And she was bumped to the ground," Clarke reminded him.

"And she was bumped to the ground," he repeated. Bellamy and Octavia shared another look, still obviously confused as to how they almost got arrested for that. "While she was down there, she somehow thought it would be a _great_ idea to kick his ankles. The Peacekeepers seen them bickering, thought it was breaking into a physical fight because of Raven, and pinned them both to the train. It took a lot of convincing from our mentor for Raven to avoid punishment because of that."

"It was so ridiculous," Raven agreed, still laughing. "I was so mad at you for that. I actually hated your guts."

Murphy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said slowly. He looked uncomfortable speaking. "I'm glad I had time to make it up to you."

She rolled her eyes jokingly. "Ah, yes. I love having to split my food with another person. You've made up for _so_ much." Then, her expression softened. "I'm only kidding, Murphy. You've made up for that and plenty."

He couldn't hide his wide grin and Clarke couldn't ignore how his cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. He tried to cover his obvious joy by wrinkling his nose. "Ew, we're getting all sappy. Quick, someone remind me about how annoying Raven is."

Raven shook her head and rolled her eyes, still smiling. "I don't need reminding about how annoying _you_ are. You do a damn good job making sure I never forget it." While Raven and Murphy continued to bicker back and forth, Clarke couldn't help but smile.

She loved them.

 _All of them._

In the past two weeks, they had become her family. She always felt a connection with Raven and Monty, ever since she laid eyes on them, and she was always interested in the Blakes. Even though they all came from different backgrounds and districts, they seemed to click well.

She was happy that they all met. Without them, she doubted she would've survived for as long as she did. They made the darkness seem lighter, something she never thought was possible. Even when she was torn apart by the death of Wells, they were there for her.

Clarke glanced towards Bellamy, a smile growing on her face. She didn't know in which way she loved him, but she loved him too. Maybe she wasn't _in_ love with him just yet, but she could feel herself falling more and more in love with him every day.

Regardless of how she felt romantically for him, she cared for him so much. He helped her survive the mess of the Games and the Capitol. He made her feel human and normal, which was nearly impossible, considering their circumstances. He was the one person she could trust and that she understood.

She tugged down Octavia's shirt and reached for the hand sanitizer Bellamy had out for her. As soon as she was done washing her hands, he brushed his finger tips over the back of her hand, sending a chill up her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end from the ghost of a touch. Their eyes locked.

A wave of affection hit her. She remembered how she regretted not telling Wells exactly how she felt when he died. _She didn't want to make that mistake again._

She was going to tell him. _I care about you. I'm falling for you. I think I could be in love with you, one day._

She knew exactly what she was going to say to him.

 _Bell, I'm falling in love with you._

She was speaking before she could stop herself. He deserved to know how much he meant to her.

"Bell, I-"

His hand flew out from under hers and pressed against her lips, making her fall quiet. Her body stiffened as soon as she realized just how frightened he looked. His eyes were wide, his muscles tensed, and he was holding his breath. Her heart began hammering in her chest as she seen him.

She only seen this fear in him one time before. _The cave._

That's when she heard it. Faintly, she could hear the creak of a wooden step.

 _They weren't alone._

* * *

 **So, this ends my one favourite mini-arc and starts the next! These next few chapters are really intense, but it was a sequence that was so clear in my mind from when I originally drafted this fic.**

 **Warnings for the next few chapters: the next few chapters include more violence and blood than most of the previous chapters. I will be putting warnings in the bottom author's notes for the next few chapters, as they contain spoilers, but they also include themes I feel people should have an option to warn themselves over.**

 **Here is a list of tributes remaining. The bolded ones are the tributes that died in the current chapter (none for this chapter). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Male: Roan  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 3 Male: Monty  
District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 8 Male: Lincoln  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **The next update will be on Saturday. Thank you for all of the comments, kudos, and love.**

 **Paw**


	37. Chapter 37: My Last Breath

**Warning. Very violent chapter. Probably follows the level of violence and gore in the conclave episode of "The 100". Please see the bottom author's note for more detailed warnings (please note, this includes spoilers for the chapter)**

 **This chapter takes place right after the last chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 37: I'll Fight Until My Last Breath**

* * *

 _Day 8 in the arena_

* * *

As soon as she heard the creak, she sprang into action. Clarke's heart hammered in her chest as she turned to her alliance, a single finger pressed to her lips in a plea for silence. Raven caught her eye. She must've noticed how panicked she looked because a look of horror overcame her face too.

The group fell completely silent within an instant. Bellamy was crouched, ready to pounce at any second, a nearby knife clutched in his hands.

They waited.

One beat.

Two beats.

 _Then, they heard it again._

It was faint, but she knew it wasn't her imagination. She could hear shuffling from a few floors below them, on the staircase.

Clarke felt like she was going to get sick. She would have, too, if they had more time. _But they didn't._ They had to move – quickly.

Clarke was thankful Raven had come up with an escape plan. It looked like they were going to be using it sooner than any of them were prepared for.

She began throwing whatever items that were around her into her backpack. Her fingers shook as she slammed fistfuls of gauze and food packages into her bag.

If they were going to escape, they needed to move before they were spotted. They still had a minute until whoever was below them would reach the top of the stairs.

She knew it was risky to be packing supplies, but they needed everything they could carry. Without any supplies, they would die just as easily as staying to be hunted by other tributes.

"Clarke!" Bellamy's voice was deadly quiet and serious. He tugged on her forearm, catching her attention. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and was attempting to help Octavia stand. "We have to go! _No time_!"

He was right. Clarke swore under her breath before zipping up the partially filled bag. She swung it onto her back and clipped it to her body in one swift motion. It was heavy and awkward, making her swear again. If she had to fight, she didn't know how well she would be able to balance with it on.

But she didn't have any time to fix it. _They had to leave_.

Lincoln was already standing by the door, a sword in his hand. He kept glancing back every few seconds, but didn't dare leave his post at the door.

This was their plan. They prepared for this. They all knew it was coming one day. And while she wasn't sure if they were ready, they would _have_ to be if they wanted to survive.

Clarke quickly glanced over her shoulder, scanning the room of her friends. Raven had followed her lead and was quickly throwing random items into a nearby backpack. Clarke tossed a food package at her head to grab her attention. Their eyes met.

"Let's go!" She mouthed the words as clearly as she could, gesturing towards the door for emphasis. Monty already had his bag on and had joined Lincoln at the door, an axe clutched in his hands. A rope hung on his opposite arm – it was their way to safety.

Clarke tried to toss another food package at Murphy, but missed. "Murphy!" Clarke hissed. He was quickly gathering all of the food scattered around the room. He glanced at her, a look of understanding passing over his face.

"No time," Bellamy echoed his words from earlier.

He was standing now, his arm hooked around Octavia's middle. She was standing mostly on her own, but still relied on him to keep her upright. She looked frustrated and exhausted already. Clarke wasn't too sure how long she would be able to run on her own.

 _That was a problem for later._

"Let's move!" Murphy snapped, nudging Lincoln forward. He glanced towards Clarke for confirmation. She sent him a strong nod, ignoring the twist of her gut. They had to leave – now – or risk never getting out of this building alive.

He opened the door slowly, his sword at the ready. He opened it a crack at first, taking his time to examine the hallway. After a moment, he stuck his head out further. Seeing nothing, he turned back to the group and nodded.

Clarke let out the breath she was holding. _He didn't see anyone._

Following the plan, Lincoln led the group out of the room. All they had to do was cross the open hallway, climb a set of stairs, and exit onto the roof. Monty had made sure there was something up there to block off the door so they could rappel to safety.

 _They could make it._

Lincoln slowly crept into the hallway, his sword in front of his face. Right on his tail was Bellamy with Octavia, followed by Monty and Raven. Leading the back of the group would be Murphy and herself, making sure everyone got up to the roof safely.

She tried to keep her footsteps light, but every step sounded like it echoed around the stairwell. She could hear their breaths, too. She bet that if someone was on the first floor, they would be able to hear them.

She swallowed thickly, her sword clutched tightly in her hand. She knew Bellamy taught her to keep a light grip on it, but it was physically impossible with all the adrenaline in her system. Her knuckles were groaning with the force she was gripping the hilt with, but it was the only thing keeping her sane in that moment.

Beside her, Murphy held a knife in his hand and several others strapped to his side. She didn't dare turn her head completely to look at him; she was terrified that the rustling of her clothes would give their position away.

A little in front of him, Raven also had her weapons set up the same way. She had her arm poised to throw at anything that made a sudden movement. While she still had a prominent limp, she was walking on her own. They wouldn't need to run for their plan; not right away, anyways.

Monty stuck closely to Bellamy's back and Lincoln to his front. He was mostly defenceless with Octavia in his arms. He still clutched his sword, but she doubted he would be able to use it to defend himself very well.

Clarke's ears were ringing from her rushing blood. Her mouth was dry and her heart hammering. She felt like she was going to pass out. Or throw up. Or both.

Lincoln made it halfway across the hallway, heading towards the ascending staircase across the landing, and Clarke had just exited the room.

 _Then chaos broke out._

As soon as she made it safely out of their camp, she felt something fly past her nose. She flinched out of the way of the path, bumping into the wall behind her.

It felt like time slowed down, just for an instant. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her heart completely stop. She was petrified with fear in that moment. All she could do was stare blankly at the back of Murphy's head, too shocked too move or even look at what had flown in front of her face.

Then, reality came rushing back to her.

"Run!" Raven had cried out the word and pushed Monty forward.

Clarke's hand was taken by Murphy as he pulled her along with the group. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a single arrow embedded in the wall where her head used to be.

She didn't have time to think about what that meant. All she knew was someone found them and was wanting to kill them. Someone was there and she almost died.

 _They needed to get out. They needed to get to safety. She needed to save her friends._

She took off sprinting alongside Murphy, dropping his hand in the process. Lincoln had fallen back from the head of the group, choosing to protect Bellamy's exposed side instead. The two men led the group towards the last flight of stairs – towards their safety. A single metal door sat at the top of the flight of stairs, leading to the roof.

Her mind was spinning as she tried to take in everything happening around her. Another arrow flew over top of her head, bouncing off the concrete wall behind her. The tip ricocheted and slashed her cheek, instantly drawing blood. There wasn't enough time to slow down.

Arrows were flying all around them. Murphy had stuck by her side as they dodged each one that came for them. Her breath came out in pants as she tried to make her way towards the stairs.

She latched onto Murphy's sleeve and pulled him towards her, right out of the way of an arrow. He stumbled backwards from the momentum, nearly knocking her to the ground. He froze for a split second as the world rushed around him.

He turned to her, panic in his eyes. "Thanks."

That was all they had time for. They were rushing forward again, fighting to keep up with the ground. Lincoln had reached the stairs at that point and was helping Bellamy keep Octavia out of harm's way. Monty was next up the stairs, and then it was Raven. She threw the knife she held blindly down the stairwell, in the general direction that the arrows were coming from.

Just as Murphy was about to do the same, Monty let out a terrified cry.

 _It happened too fast._

One moment, they were running forward, the next she was stumbling backwards, a warm substance covering the front of her body. Murphy caught Raven as she fell backwards off the staircase. He quickly righted her.

 _Then she saw him._

Monty's eyes locked with her eyes one final time. She could see the faintest hint of a smile still spread across his face.

 _Then, he was gone._

He slumped forward, his body hitting the stairs with a loud and painful thud. A long spear was embedded into his body, taking all of the life in him. His face was dotted with blood – his own – as he stared up at the ceiling, eyes unseeing.

Raven let out a terrible cry. Clarke hadn't heard anything like it before. It sounded like an animal's growl and sob of pain, sending chills throughout her whole body. Luckily, Monty had landed behind a beam of wood, which provided enough cover for Raven to slump to the ground beside him. Murphy pulled Clarke behind a concrete beam that stood at the junction between the hallway and the staircase.

 _Monty was dead._

Her chest was heaving and she could feel tears pricking her eyes. Arrows still rained down around her. She could feel them smacking into the back of the pole, one after the other. She glanced towards Monty, a feeling of pain overwhelming her.

 _No time, no time, no time._

He was dead. Monty was dead. _He was dead._

She pushed down her feelings of pain and sorrow. She didn't have time to feel anything in that moment. She had to get out of there. She had to make sure the rest of her friends got out alive.

Clarke quickly peered around the corner of the large pole she was pressed into. Across the stairwell, she caught sight of their attackers. Ontari, Roan, and Cage were crouched on the stairs a floor below them, looks of pure hatred on their faces. An arrow came flying towards her and she jerked her body back behind the pole.

 _The Careers. They found them._

Lincoln, Bellamy and Octavia were at the door to the roof at that point. Murphy, Raven and Clarke stood at the base of the stairs. In between them was a stretch of flying arrows and the body of her dead friend.

Bellamy turned back towards her. She locked eyes with him. Brown met blue. It wasn't for the first time, and she prayed to the gods that it wouldn't be the last.

" _GO_!" she shouted as loudly as she could, urging him to continue. Lincoln pulled him and Octavia through the open door, onto the roof. As soon as they were safe on the roof, she snapped back to her two friends around her. "Raven! We have to go!" She clutched Monty's body tightly, her face twisted in pain. She wasn't listening. "Screw it."

Clarke took off from the cover behind the pole, slamming roughly to the floor behind the wooden beam Raven crouched behind. An arrow hit the wall inches over her head. Clarke reached out for her friend. She could feel her trembling.

"We have to go," she told her. Raven made eye contact with her, rage like no other in her eyes. "Raven, we have to go!" A second later, Murphy had landed beside Clarke, his ribs smacking into the edge of a stair painfully. He swore.

"Raven," he snapped, bringing her attention to him. "Leave him. He's gone. _We're not_."

"But-"

" _Move it,_ Reyes!" He was standing back up, pulling Raven with him. He surged forward, Clarke following him closely. He continued to guide Raven up the stairs, leaving Monty behind.

Just as they were almost at the top of the stairs, her world came crashing down again. Murphy let out a loud grunt as an arrow hit him in the stomach. His body stiffened and his grip on Raven loosened.

Clarke's step faltered as she watched. Murphy reached down, feeling where the arrow had entered his body. She could see blood spreading quickly, radiating from the point of entry. When he pulled back his hand, it was covered in blood, too.

 _No time. No time. No time._

Clarke continued running, gripping his arm with her own. She threw it over her shoulders and pulled most of his weight onto her own feet. Raven was on the other side of him, doing the same with his arm. She was openly sobbing. Together, the two girls hauled him up the remaining two steps, through the door that lead to the roof.

The bright sun hurt Clarke's eyes. She winced and covered her face as she stumbled onto the roof. She didn't know who, but someone grabbed her, pulling her away from the doorway. She could hear the metal door slam shut and the lock click as soon as she was through the doorway.

Clarke lowered Murphy to the ground and Raven fell beside him. She was trying to still her sobs, but her whole body still shook from them. Murphy reached out towards her, resting a bloody hand on her forearm in a sign of solidarity.

Clarke blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the brightness. She stood up again, her mind spinning. Then, Bellamy was beside her. Her hand clutched the front of his shirt tightly, her world spinning around her. Words were flowing out of her mouth before she knew what was happening.

"Monty's dead!" she gasped. Her eyes locked on Bellamy's, pain filling his. She stumbled away from him a few steps as she leaned over. She glanced down at her body and almost got sick. She was covered in blood. _Who's, she didn't know._ "Oh, gods." She straightened herself and looked towards Murphy. "Oh, gods." Bellamy swore once he seen Murphy.

He was laying on the ground, his face drained of blood and sweat on his forehead. His lips were pressed tightly together and his fists were balled at the side of his body. He looked like he was in pain. An arrow protruded from his stomach, pointing towards the sky. Blood had spread from his wound, turning his shirt dark and sticky.

Clarke dropped to her knees beside him, her sword clattering to the ground. Her hands hovered over his body, too afraid to touch anything. She didn't want to make it worse, especially when they weren't in a safe spot. She couldn't bandage him up on the roof – they had to keep moving.

Murphy's eyes fluttered open slowly. He squinted from the sun, his nose scrunching up and forehead creasing. Raven rocked forward, leaning towards him. They locked eyes.

"You're stupid, you know that, right?" she snapped harshly. Tears were filling her eyes again as she spoke. "You took that arrow for me, didn't you?"

"And you say I don't love you." He tried to pull a smile, but it came off as a grimace. Raven let out a small sob at that. "That's what I do, Raven, don't you know by now? I jump in front of anything dangerous and like to get shot."

"This isn't the time for jokes, Murphy," she told him. She sounded breathless and broken.

Then, Raven was moving forward. Her lips met his in a desperate kiss. Her hands cupped his face tenderly, smearing blood across his cheeks. His hand tightened around the front of her shirt, pulling the material between his fists.

When she pulled back, Clarke realized she was crying. "You're so fucking stupid."

He chuckled weakly at that. "I know, but this is not one of those times. I'd take anything for you, Raven."

"Don't die, Murphy. Okay? Don't die."

"Promise me you'll kiss me again later?" He tried to look cheeky, but it came out as a grimace. "I'd definitely live then."

She pulled him in for another kiss – shorter this time, but still filled with so much desperation and adoration. "Live because I care about you. Live because I need you."

His eyes were locked on her face, his hands gripping hers. He wet his lips and grimaced again. "Raven?"

"I'm here."

"You remember what I told you that day? The day of the bloodbath?"

"I couldn't forget," she promised him. "But you're not dying, Murphy. Okay? You won't die alone. You'll be fine."

"I don't want to die alone."

"You aren't alone," she promised him. "And you aren't fucking dying. You hear me?" Raven turned to Clarke, desperation in her eyes. "He's fine, right?"

Clarke tried to keep her face emotionless. He wasn't fine and he wouldn't be unless they could get somewhere to work, but she couldn't tell that to Raven. She already lost Monty; she didn't want to make her worry about Murphy, too.

"If we get out of this, we'll do everything we can," Clarke promised her. Raven sniffed and turned back to Murphy. Clarke's heart filled with pain as she watched them.

While the two of them weren't friends when the Games first started, they came a long way since. _Clearly._ She didn't know they'd became more than friends over the last weeks, but it barely surprised her. They'd been chemistry between the two of them ever since they got over their hostility towards each other.

They were good for each other. Even though it felt like the world was seconds away from ending, she took a second to acknowledge how _good_ they were together. She wanted to live to see them together again – _really_ together.

"Lincoln, how's the door going to hold up?" Bellamy asked, his eyes still not moving from Murphy.

Clarke leaned forward, her hands finding their way to his torso. She ripped the bottom portion of his shirt, exposing the arrow. If possible, his skin was even worse to look at than all the blood.

"We need to move. It's not going to hold for long once they reach it." Lincoln had his back towards them as he watched the door. He was crouched low and his arm was up. _He was ready to fight._ "What's going on back there?"

"Monty was killed," Raven rasped out. Lincoln's shoulders tensed. "He… He pushed me out of the way. A spear was coming for me. I could see it. He seen it too. Just as I braced for it, he threw me to the side. He… He died. _For me._ " Raven's voice sounded numb and hollow as she spoke.

"And Murphy?"

"He was hit with an arrow." Clarke' voice sounded so far away. She felt far away too, like she wasn't truly inside of her body. She was running completely on autopilot in that moment, relying on her instincts to keep moving. "We need to get him bandaged. I don't… I don't know if he'll last very long without them."

"Not here," Lincoln said fiercely. "This door isn't-"

His sentence was cut off as the door was banged against from the opposite side. Clarke froze, a chill going up her spine.

 _They were going to die._

They were stuck on a roof, ten stories off the ground. Raven had just lost her best friend. Murphy was bleeding profusely and an arrow was jutting out from his stomach. Octavia still was too weak to walk on her own. Bellamy and Lincoln were the only ones available to fight off the Careers as Clarke tried to tend to Murphy.

"Shit!" Clarke's fist clenched as she realized something terrible. The rope was with Monty, still on the stairs. _They had no way to get off the roof_. That was their plan for escape. "The rope…" She didn't need to say anymore. Raven's eyes shot to her own.

"It's with Monty," Raven hissed. Her hand flew into her hair, panic overwhelming her. "Oh, shit. _Oh, fuck._ We have no way down." Bellamy swore loudly. They were all silent for a moment, each desperate to think of a solution.

"We'll have to stand our ground and fight," Bellamy determined. "That's the only way. If we can't run, we have to fight." Clarke could hear the pain in his voice. He didn't think they would be able to win this battle – not with so many of them injured. "We will-"

"Over here!" Octavia called from the opposite side of the roof. She had managed to make her way to the roof across from where they stood, along the ledge that was behind the door. If the Careers busted through, they would have to turn around completely to see her. "There's a ledge I can jump to, and then we can use the pole to get down."

Bellamy took off towards where his sister stood, peering over the edge of the roof. He examined the ledge she was pointing to. He was silent for a few seconds.

"It'll do." He turned back towards the group, a solid look in his eye. "Let's move." Clarke helped Murphy up from the ground. Lincoln didn't move an inch, his eyes still locked on the door.

"I'm right behind everyone. Go."

"Lincoln, you-"

" _Go."_ His tone was heavy, cutting off Octavia. It wasn't a question either, it was a demand. He wouldn't take any other opinion on his decision.

"He's right, O. Once everyone's down, Lincoln and I will follow," Bellamy promised. He reached for Murphy and helped steady him on the ledge of the roof. He examined the drop to the ledge below, a concentrated look on his face. "Octavia, how are you feeling?"

"Bellamy, this isn't exactly the right time-"

"What I mean is, can you make it there yourself?" He gestured towards the ledge below them.

It was a story below, which made her gut twist. Clarke wasn't too sure if she could jump to make that. Octavia leaned over the roof and studied the fall again.

"Yes."

"And what about if we lower Murphy down. Can you help him to the ground?"

Octavia sent him a look. "Bellamy, that's nine stories below. I have to climb a freaking pole to get to the ground." She glanced over the side of the roof again, then turned back to Murphy, internally debating. After only five seconds, she nodded her head with determination. "Yeah. I can do it."

"You guys have to hurry!" Lincoln called. "The door isn't going to hold much longer!" Bellamy glanced towards the other man, a determined look coming over his face. His eyes met Clarke's.

"Get them to safety." Before she could say anything else, he was already moving towards Lincoln, his sword clutched in his hands. Clarke watched him walk off, too shocked to do anything.

Octavia jumped off the roof, landing on the ledge below roughly. She let out a gasp and rolled to her knees to catch her breath. As soon as she did, she glanced up at Clarke.

"Send him down!"

 _That_ broke Clarke out of her trance. She turned to Murphy, hooking her hands under his arms. His eyes were barely open anymore and his head lulled to the side. She tried lowering him down towards Octavia, but her body was aching. She physically couldn't stretch further.

Raven reached forward and helped steady Clarke's back, letting her shift Murphy a few more inches. It still wasn't enough.

"We can't do it!" she cried out. "It's too far!"

Clarke pressed her lips tightly together and sucked in a breath through her nose. Murphy's legs were dangling by Octavia's elbows, but she couldn't drop him yet. If she did, he would land roughly on her. She also couldn't lower him anymore, otherwise she would topple off the roof.

"We have to!" she snapped, her words coming out harsher than expected.

The two girls shared a long look. Finally, Raven nodded. With Raven's help supporting her back, they lowered Murphy a few more inches.

When they couldn't go any further, they tried transferring to Octavia as best as possible. Octavia was clearly in pain as she stretched upwards, pulling on her healing wound. Clarke winced. That wouldn't good for her stiches.

Then, they dropped him. Murphy went crashing towards Octavia. She let him fly into her arms before she absorbed the impact by rolling to the ground. He let out a moan of pain as the arrow in his torso was moved around.

The three girls looked at each other for a long moment. In that brief moment of time, Clarke felt a surge of happiness. It was fleeting, but it was there. _They got Murphy down_. Now, it would be up to Octavia to try and get him down the pole.

Clarke turned to Raven, urgency once again filling her.

"You're next."

"Clarke, I-"

Before Raven could finish speaking, a loud bang filled the air. Clarke jumped from it and chills raced throughout her whole body. Her eyes flew to the door that led to the apartment building, watching in horror as Roan flew onto the roof.

Her body acted on an instinct she didn't knew she had. Clarke took off sprinting towards the open door, ever cell in her body telling her to fight.

She rounded the corner of the doorway, coming face to face with Ontari. She let out a startled gasp and rolled out of the way of her blade.

Clarke managed to roll to beside Lincoln, standing only a few feet away from Bellamy. She lifted her sword, still on her knees, and swung it towards Roan. He easily dodged it, but turned his attention to her.

She rolled out of the way of his blade, scrambling quickly into a standing position. She swung her sword to clash against his. The vibrations ran up the blade and through her arm. She could feel the clash in her teeth.

She could see Bellamy fighting Ontari a few paces away. She stood close to the door, a distance safe enough so she could turn and run for cover if needed. Cage hung back in the shadows, arrows flying out from him. He obviously wasn't very good, since he kept missing. Roan was the only Career fully on the roof, completely exposed.

Roan pulled back, swinging his sword at her with a loud cry. Clarke managed to block his blade just before it swept across her body. She didn't have time to examine him for any weaknesses or openings like Bellamy instructed it. In that moment, she was fighting for her survival. Every thought she had went towards ensuring she stayed alive.

Raven came up beside her, joining her in her fight against Roan. She had managed to block three of his thrusts with her own, but hadn't managed to hit him. As soon as Raven came up beside her, it all changed.

She let a knife fly from her hand, which was narrowly dodged by the Career. Clarke stepped forward, bringing her sword up from under him. She managed to knick the outside of his calf, which drew blood instantly. He let out a grunt of pain and turned to her again.

Clarke wasn't watching what was happening with Bellamy and Lincoln, but she knew they would be okay. They were the most trained out of their whole alliance, other than Octavia. _They could hold their own against Careers._

Roan lunged at Raven, who stumbled back a few steps. As she was regaining her footing, Clarke jumped in front of her, meeting Roan's sword in the middle. Quickly, she examined him. He was leaning heavily on one leg after she managed to cut him, making him an easy target to take off balance. All she needed to do was twist him around and hit his shoulder and he would be gone.

She jumped into action quickly. Raven threw a knife towards his torso, which he narrowly dodged. He had to jump out of the way, since he wasn't willing to put weight on his injured leg. Clarke used his distraction to push on his blade, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

Raven threw another knife. This time, it embedded deep into his arm. He let out a hiss of anger and his upper body was thrown backwards. They were mere feet away from the door and Cage was looking angry.

She swung her sword at him one more time, but was easily blocked by him. She swung again, using it as a distraction, and quickly rolled to her side. He swung to meet her strike, throwing him off balance when there was nothing to push off of. Clarke swept her sword along his good ankle, cutting it deeply. He roared in pain. As she worked on getting him off balance, Raven threw a knife into the hand that clutched in sword. It went crashing to the ground.

 _He was defenceless and open._

Clarke's sword drove into his torso, sending blood splatting everywhere. She withdrew her blade and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards into the stairs. He smashed painfully into Cage and continued rolling. She didn't wait to see what happened to him; she already knew he wouldn't be able to survive that. Without hesitation, she turned to Ontari. Bellamy was still fighting her, but she was quickly overpowering him.

She watched closely as Bellamy swung his sword high, leaving an opening for her to swing low. Clarke read his intentions easily and slashed her sword through the air, towards her legs. The Career jumped out of the way, narrowly catching Bellamy's sword with her own. Ontari stumbled back towards the door, her eyes never leaving Bellamy's.

Clarke kicked one of her legs out from under her, throwing her off balance. She was balancing on the top step, her arms outstretched to regain stability. Instead of swinging his sword, Bellamy gripped the edge of the metal door and slammed it shut.

 _For a moment, it was quiet._

Bellamy locked eyes with Clarke, his eyes filled with pain. She was breathing heavily and felt faint. He winced as he looked down at his arm, where a large gash sat. Blood trickled all the way down his arm, reaching his finger tips. _It didn't look good._

Her eyes scanned the roof, her mind racing to keep up with what happened.

Her heart completely stopped when she seen Lincoln's body slumped against the opposite end of the door. _No._ His eyes were closed and his face relaxed, almost like he was sleeping _. But she knew better._ He sat in a pool of his own blood.

 _He was dead._

She didn't know how or when it happened, but he was killed. Clarke let out a strangled gasp as she seen him, tears once again filling her eyes.

 _Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods._

Pounding at the door started back up again, breaking her attention. Bellamy was bounced forward as they hit the door repeatedly, almost throwing it open completely. He looked like he was in both emotional and physical pain.

"We can't do it!" Raven said, her voice breaking. "Clarke and I could barely take Roan together. All three of them are still alive and just waiting to get to us. We can't fight them."

"Lincoln, I-"

"Lincoln's dead!" Clarke sobbed. Bellamy's head snapped up, a horrified expression on his face. Clarke felt something inside of her break. "Oh, gods, Bellamy. _We're going to die."_

"We can do this. We aren't going to die," he promised. The door flew open a few inches again, but he pushed it back closed. She didn't know how much longer he could hold them off. "We can. We just need… I don't know. We need an advantage. We need…"

"A distraction," Raven finished. An unreadable expression was on her face, like she was wearing a mask. Her eyes had hardened and her shoulders were thrown back. "We need a distraction so you guys can escape."

Clarke instantly picked up on her use of words.

"You guys?" she repeated back, panic rising.

What did she mean? What was she planning on doing?

 _A distraction._

Clarke remembered their conversation from the other night. _The explosives_. Monty and Raven had set up explosives around the apartment while they slept, in case they ever needed to get away. She couldn't have been talking about that… Could she?

Looking at her determined and stony expression made her question herself.

"Raven," Clarke warned harshly. "There's other ways. We can-"

"No," she said strongly. "This is the only way. I need to get in there to set off the bombs. Monty and I put the switch right at the doorway. I just need to get in there and-"

" _No,_ " Bellamy snapped once he realized what she was talking about. "It's too dangerous. They're waiting for us right at the other end of the door. They won't let you flick a switch to set off bombs."

"It doesn't matter," she said strongly.

"It does!" He pushed the door closed again as it was banged open. "You won't be able to get away if you go, they'll-"

"Bellamy. Clarke." Raven had unclipped her backpack, dropping it to the ground. "I lied."

Her blood ran cold.

"What?"

"The manual operation of the explosives won't allow me to get away," she said. Clarke's heart fell to her stomach. She felt like she was going to get sick. "There won't be enough time to clear the blast zone if they're set off manually."

"This is exactly why I told you no!" she said. Her voice was already sounding hysterical and her eyes were burning with tears. "I said 'not if we have to sacrifice someone.' You did it anyways!"

"I knew this would happen," Raven pointed out, rounding on Clarke. "I know you're watching out for me. I know you want what's best. _But this is it._ One life for several. You all can make it if I flick that switch. If I don't, we'll all die. It's simple math."

"Raven, this is life. Not a fucking math problem." Bellamy had fallen silent at that point. Clarke felt like she was on the verge of hysteria. Raven couldn't sacrifice herself. _No way._ No. She wasn't going to let it happen.

"I'll do it," Bellamy offered, his voice emotionless. "I… I can fight them off and then hit the button. You can all escape. Just tell me where it is and I'll do it."

Raven's face softened at his offer. "No, Bellamy. I'm the only one alive that knows how to work explosives," she reminded him. "You're needed here. It's the only way. You know this."

"No, Raven!" Clarke grasped her forearm, desperate to make her stay. "No, okay? We'll find another way."

"There isn't one!" She shook Clarke off. Her voice softened. "There isn't one. That's life, okay? I have a plan. Let me do it." Clarke was shaking. She couldn't lose her. She couldn't lose another friend. Not three in one day. _She couldn't._

"Bellamy," she pleaded, turning towards him. "Tell her she can't do it. Tell her there's another way. _Tell her._ "

His face was emotionless. He locked eyes with Raven. "Are you sure, Raven?" Clarke felt like his words slapped her in the face.

"No doubt in my mind." Bellamy's lips were pressed in a tight line as he nodded. Clarke was rooted to the spot where she stood, absolute horror overwhelming her.

 _No. Bellamy, don't do that. Don't let her die._

Raven pulled away from Clarke again and went to where Bellamy was pushing on the door. She planted her feet solidly and leaned heavily against the door. Her face strained from the effort.

"Don't you _fucking_ dare," Clarke warned. She stepped closer, her arms shaking at her sides. "Raven, I swear to gods, if you do this…" The mechanic's expression softened as she looked at Clarke.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was as genuine as the pain and fear on her face.

"No, Raven, I-"

"Run."

With that one word, Raven pushed Bellamy off of the door. He went stumbling forward, towards Clarke.

"Raven!"

She strained as she tried to hold the door closed long enough for Bellamy and Clarke to escape. "I can't hold it for long," she warned, her voice tensed.

Clarke couldn't move. Every muscle in her body was frozen. She felt like she wasn't even in her body anymore as she watched Raven press against the door.

 _She was going to die._

She was going to lose three of her allies in one day – three of her friends. _Three people she loved._

She couldn't. She couldn't lose them. They were who she was fighting for. They were the reason she was willing to risk her life. They were what kept Clarke going. It wasn't the chance of survival or to get home anymore. _It was about them._ It was about getting them as far as possible, so one of them could go home.

Clarke wasn't going to leave her. If Raven was going to sacrifice herself, so would she.

"Raven Reyes, don't you _dare._ I will-"

"Bellamy!" Raven locked eyes with him. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that it looked like it was hurting her teeth. "Get her out of here!"

He was shaking his head now, too. "Raven, I can't leave you. We aren't doing this. There has to be another way and-"

Ravens' voice was hysterical. " _There is no other goddamn way._ " She was on the verge of crying. "You told me you loved them; that you love her."

"Raven-"

Clarke wasn't listening to her at this point. She was sobbing openly, begging her to come with them, begging _anyone_ to come up with a better plan.

" _You love her and_ _you fucking promised me you'd keep them safe._ " Clarke didn't know what she was talking about, but it looked like Bellamy did. He looked petrified. "Keep all of them safe, Bellamy." He wasn't arguing against her anymore, but he also hadn't moved away. Raven was getting desperate. "Bellamy, go! I can't-" She grunted as the door was thrust open. She struggled to get it closed again. "You promised! Go!"

With those words, he seemed to make up his mind. He stumbled over to Clarke, gripping her hand in his. She ripped it from his grip. His contact was enough to get her moving again. Clarke surged forward, lunging towards Raven.

He caught her before she reached them. He lifted her off of her feet and began pulling her towards the edge of the roof. Clarke let out screams of anguish as they got further away.

 _"_ _No!"_ she screamed. Her throat was hurting from all the yelling. "No! Put me down! Raven! _Don't do this!_ " Raven let out a loud grunt before being thrown to the ground. The door flew open and the Careers rushed onto the roof.

The last time she seen Raven, she was rolling onto her side, Lincoln's sword in her hand. She had fire in her eyes, just like she always did. Her face was set in stone.

She was determined.

Fierce.

Unrelenting.

 _That was the last time she seen Raven Reyes._

* * *

 **CHAPTER WARNINGS: blood, violence, major character death**

* * *

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter.**

 **District 1 Male: Roan** **  
**District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
 **District 3 Male: Monty** **  
**District 3 Female: Raven  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
 **District 8 Male: Lincoln** **  
**District 10 Male: Dax

 **I'm really looking forward to reviews about this chapter. Please feel free to scream.**

 **Thanks for reading.**


	38. Chapter 38: Fly Away

**Whew. I hope everyone's okay after that last chapter. These next few chapters are bumpy and filled with angst, so prepare yourself.**

 **Also, to clarify, the reason Raven wasn't listed as confirmed dead last chapter was because of the odd place I decided to put the chapter break. At the end of the chapter, Clarke is running away still and the explosives haven't gone off (so, Raven is technically alive). When the explosives go off, that will change. I hope this makes sense! Sorry for any confusion!**

 **Warnings: blood, angst, getting sick/throwing up**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 38: Fly Away**

* * *

 _Day 8 in the arena_

* * *

By the time the explosion went off, Clarke was running away from the building. The ground shook and she could feel the heat hit her back. Pieces of rock rained down on her from above, stinging her skin as they whipped against her. She let out a startled yelp and nearly went tumbling to the ground. Bellamy still had his hand hooked under her elbow, pulling her along.

 _Raven was gone._ She sacrificed herself so they could live.

So many emotions flooded her. She couldn't save Raven. She couldn't save her friends.

Her heart felt like it was breaking over and over again.

 _She abandoned Raven_. She left her friend to die, just so they could escape. She told herself over and over again that she wouldn't save herself when she could save her friends. She promised herself that she would do anything to keep them safe.

 _And she failed._

Raven had died for them. _And for what?_ Just so Clarke could get killed tomorrow by the Capitol? Just so Bellamy could sacrifice himself for his sister?

Clarke was a mess of sorrow, grief and anger.

 _Why did she do it?_

Raven could have lived. She could have gone on to win the Games. Instead, she went into the building to set off the explosion. She sacrificed herself so they could get away.

Clarke wanted to scream in anguish. Her throat felt tight, like she could barely breathe. She could feel blood running down her fingers from where her nails dug into her skin painfully. _She could feel the blood of her friends dripping down her chest._

They were gone. Monty jumped in front of Raven to protect her. Lincoln died giving them a chance to escape. Raven sacrificed herself so they could live.

Three of her allies.

 _Three of her friends._

She didn't think she felt that kind of pain before. It was so similar to Wells, but yet _so_ different. She had just met her allies two weeks ago, but she loved them. Somehow, they grew close and grew together in hell.

Raven and Monty were the first people to show that they cared. They were two of the first tributes she spoke to at the tribute parade, and the first people that joined her alliance. Without them, her alliance never would have happened. She never would have been able to accomplish all that she did, both in and out of the arena. They helped train her, helped protect her, and help bring joy and happiness in the darkest time of her life.

 _And they were gone._

Her mind was stuck on them, spiralling around and around.

She could still clearly remember how bright Raven was during the tribute parade, her face snarky as she dissed her stylist and her costume. Monty was so quiet when they first met, but they understood each other. She remembered the first moment she knew how kind he was; he came up to her after the parade to apologize for accidentally insulting Wells. _He was too kind and too pure for their world._

Clarke quickly blinked back the tears. She needed to watch where she was running. Not only were they trying to escape the Careers that had found them, but they also needed to stay away from other tributes that were likely hiding in the city.

Raven became one of her closest friends in the arena. Sure, she loved her other allies, but the mechanic was always there for her. Her humor and her talent never ceased to amaze Clarke. She lightened the group, even though death was a cloud hanging over them.

 _And Lincoln._ She didn't know him as well as the others – he was quiet most of the time – but he was a good man. _And he was a family man._ He had sisters back at home that were watching the Games.

 _Oh, gods._

They had been running for blocks when Clarke felt the world around her tipping. She felt like she was going to throw up.

 _And she did._

She tripped over her own two feet, sending her tumbling to the ground. She landed roughly on her side, tiny pieces of rubble digging into the palms of her hand. She turned to the side and emptied the contents of her stomach.

"Octavia, grab her. We have to-"

" _Shut up, Bellamy!"_ Octavia snapped. She rounded on him, her finger pointing accusingly at his face. "There was an explosion. _Nobody could have survived that –_ not even the fucking Careers. We can take a break for Clarke to feel better." Her voice sounded pained, more than Clarke had ever heard it before. Clarke knew she was thinking the exact same thing as her; nobody could've survived that explosion. _Raven wasn't coming back. Lincoln wasn't coming back. Monty wasn't coming back._

"Then how come there haven't been any canons?" Bellamy asked. He kept pacing around while Clarke leaned on her side, Murphy bouncing in his arms. The younger man had his head lulled backwards and his hands loose at his sides. _He looked sick._

Octavia dropped to her knees beside the blonde and pulled her hair to the side. Even though she was younger than her, Clarke felt like a young child being comforted by a mother in that moment. Octavia gently rubbed circles on Clarke's back, trying to calm her churning stomach.

"No, he's right," Clarke rasped. She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "We have to keep moving." Her eyes flicked to Bellamy. His face was set in stone as he stared at her. Murphy groaned loudly from his arms. "Is he okay?"

"No." Bellamy's jaw twitched and his eyes softened. "Are you okay? You fell hard."

Octavia's face softened as she examined Clarke. "Can you get up?"

"I'm fine," she answered both of them.

It was true. Other than the taste of acid in her mouth and the emotional turmoil inside of her, she was fine, miraculously. She could feel blood running down her face from the attack, and she accidentally cut her skin with her nails, but she was fine.

 _She was alive._

Clarke got off the ground and dusted her hands off on her pants. Tiny rocks dug deeper into her skin, but she ignored the pain. If they were going to live, they had to keep going.

She walked over to where Bellamy stood with Murphy. He tried to catch her eye, but her eyes were locked completely on the boy in his arms, his face twisted in pain and his skin clammy.

 _That wasn't right._

An arrow to the abdomen wouldn't effect him this strongly. Plus, she knew he still had some of the medicine from the Capitol still in him. _He shouldn't look this sick._

She could hear Bellamy talking to Octavia, but she turned them out. She was focused on Murphy, panic rising in her.

 _She couldn't lose him. She couldn't lose another friend._

 _No._ She wouldn't allow it. She had lost three others today; she couldn't add a fourth to that list. She refused to let Murphy die.

 _She was going to save him if it was the last thing she did._

Her friends sacrificed themselves so they could live and she was going to make damn sure that would happen. The four of them – Bellamy, Octavia, Murphy and Clarke – were going to survive until the ends of these Games.

 _For them._

 _For Raven. For Monty. For Lincoln. For Wells._

Clarke glanced at the arrow. It looked like it was a deep hit, which wasn't good. If she remembered anatomy correctly, the arrow didn't look like it hit anything important. It wasn't near any major organs, which was good news. _She could work with that._

She wasn't too sure why this arrow was affecting him so much, but she knew they had to do something quickly. For all she knew, her anatomy could've been off and something important could've been hit. Her eyes snapped up to meet Bellamy's. He fell silent as he saw the panic in them.

"We need to get somewhere safe _._ " Seeing how serious Clarke looked, Bellamy jumped into action. His face fell back into the mask he was wearing as he shouldered Murphy.

"We're close to our shop," he told Clarke. She paused and examined the streets they were running in. She didn't recognize them, but she had to trust Bellamy on this one. He was always good with directions. "We can get there in five minutes."

"And the Careers?" Octavia pushed. Clarke shot her an annoyed glance. "Hey. I'm not saying we don't find somewhere to operate on Murphy, but what if they're watching? What if they're waiting until our guard is down?"

"I don't care," Clarke said harshly. She wasn't mad at Octavia – she was mad at the world. As soon as she snapped at her, her face softened. "I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't worry, Clarke. I got it." Octavia's smile was tight.

She turned to Bellamy. "It's our only option. I have to get to work on him." Bellamy looked at her for a long moment before turning back to Murphy.

She knew it was risky, but they needed to do this. If the Careers were watching, they would have to deal with that later. _For all they knew, they could have died in the explosion_. She knew Lincoln had died and she hadn't heard his canon yet. She knew Raven died, but there wasn't a canon for her either. _What if the Careers had been wiped out?_

"You're right. We don't have another option." His jaw muscles twitched. "Let's go."

Bellamy took off running in a slightly different direction, Clarke and Octavia trailing after him. Clarke wrapped her arm around Octavia's shoulders, trying to keep her steady and at the same pace as them. She was sweating and breathing heavily. Clarke felt bad for making her run so soon after such a terrible injury, but that was the only way they could survive.

She tried to make a plan to treat Murphy. He survived an arrow before, only a week ago. He was strong and he could tolerate pain well. Plus, if she knew her anatomy right, the arrow hadn't hit any major organs.

She kept chanting that in her mind, as if it would miraculously cure him.

 _He could survive this_. The only reason he was clammy and faint was from the blood loss and being close to a fire. There wasn't any other explanation to his extreme reaction to the shot.

And while he wasn't alert, he also wasn't knocked out. Once again, she blamed it on the blood loss.

She didn't have time to contemplate it. Bellamy turned down a familiar street and she caught sight of the abandoned shop only a few shops away. Clarke's heart jumped to her throat.

They were there not even twenty-four hours ago, yet it felt like a lifetime had passed. _So much had changed. So many things had been lost._

Clarke pulled away from Octavia, sprinting to the door. Once again, she was thrown into high alert. She doubted anyone would have come in to hide in the store in such a short time after they were there, but she couldn't be sure. The Careers found them, after all. _Anyone could be anywhere._

She glanced around the familiar room, feeling a twinge of pain when the scent of faint smoke hit her. She could see their blanket still bunched in the corner where they sat only a day before. She could see their black tops hanging on the rack closest to the back corner – the clothing that they wore while they waited.

She pushed her thoughts aside. _That was then, this was now._ She couldn't dwell on the past and how much simpler it was. She couldn't focus on the fact that her life had been torn down in the last twelve hours.

The last time she entered that room, her friends were still alive.

 _No._

She couldn't think about that. She had to save Murphy. Once he was stabilized, she could mourn and grieve and think about what the hell happened to get them in this situation.

With those thoughts, she wondered why she couldn't get the image of Raven out of her head. She could see her eyes so clearly, like she was still standing right in front of her. She had the whole weight of her body thrown against the metal door, using all of her energy to keep it closed. Her body flew off the door every time Ontari slammed into it from the opposite end. She was shaking from the effort of pushing it closed each time.

 _She was afraid to die_. She could see it in her eyes. But she was so determined to do the right thing – to save her friends. She was scared, but she wasn't conflicted. She was sure about what she needed to do.

 _She was a warrior_. Even when she was scared beyond belief, she was strong, confident, and determined.

"Is it clear?" Octavia rested her hand on Clarke's shoulder, making her jump. She was startled back into reality.

 _Raven was dead. She needed to make sure the shop was safe to enter._

She could see Octavia's eyes piercing into her, evaluating her, but she ignored him. She turned to the rest of the shop, her eyes scanning over all of the objects. Just as she suspected, nothing was moved from the last time they were there.

 _They were alone._

"Clear," she announced, stepping fully inside. She glanced back at Murphy and her mind went completely numb. Years of training and practice flooded into her as her emotions bled out of her.

If she was going to do this, she had to be composed. She couldn't think about the fact that she lost most of her alliance. She couldn't think about the fact most of her friends were dead.

She had to ignore the pain she felt inside of her, eating away at her like rats on a hot summer day. She couldn't think about Bellamy and how he ripped her away from the burning building. She couldn't risk thinking about the stakes if she did something wrong while working on Murphy.

 _Because she had to save him._ It wasn't a question. _She refused to lose another friend that day._

She had to ignore all of her emotions and push all of her thoughts away. There would be a time that she could process and deal with them.

It wasn't now.

Now, she had to focus on saving her friend.

A cloud came over her and her heart filled with a certain hardness. She felt numb and distant, like she wasn't truly in her body. Her mind already formulated a plan to stabilize Murphy enough to get to somewhere safer. Once they were safe and after she could monitor his vitals for a while, she could treat him better.

She'd do this exactly like last time. Remove the arrow. Sterilize. Stitch with the floss. Cauterize if needed.

She did that exact same procedure twice in the past week. She could do this. _She could save him._

"Bellamy, put him on the cash desk." She wasn't too sure exactly what it was called, but it was the only desk that was still standing in the store. It stood several feet away, an empty cash register beside it. Clarke walked towards the desk and wiped off a thick layer of dust before Murphy could be set down. "Octavia, get the backpacks. Look for any medical supplies and all of the water."

"All of it?" she sounded hesitant.

"All of it," she confirmed. "Water, sterilizers, bandages, floss, the sewing kit, gauze… Whatever you can find."

Bellamy walked up beside Clarke, dropping Murphy onto the table in front of her. She unclipped her backpack and handed it to Octavia. Next, she unzipped her jacket and threw it to the floor.

She glanced it him, a frown on her face. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat and had a grey tinge to it. His clothes were drenched in a mix of blood and sweat. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw clenched, indicating he was in pain. His face was looked translucent under the poor lighting. His eyes kept fluttering open every few seconds, only to fall closed again.

Clarke pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. She brushed some of his long hair out of his face while she monitored his temperature.

He was warm. _Really_ warm.

That wasn't normal. Not even for someone who had just been shot with an arrow. She expected his temperature to be slightly higher than usual, but this was too much. _He was burning up._

"O, help me barricade the door."

Bellamy was already walking towards the clothing rack that he moved with Clarke just the day before. Octavia quickly met him at the door and helped him drag the metal rack to block the entrance. With the closing of the door, all of the light was blocked from the room.

"Bellamy, candles. Light as many as you can find. I'll need the light."

Clarke couldn't see much in the dark, but she didn't have any time to waste. She pushed up her sleeves to her elbows and pulled her hair back into a quick knot.

The room came back to life as soon as Bellamy lit the first candle. The flame flickered, making the orange light dance across the walls. The shadows seemed to move on their own, crossing the room back and forth.

"I have sanitizer," Octavia said as soon as she could see what was in her hand. The girl passed it to Clarke and continued to dig through the bags. Bellamy continued lighting candles and positioning them around the room while Clarke drenched her arms with the sanitizer.

As Clarke was lathering her arms, Murphy let out a loud groan and she froze. Under the candle light, she could see his back arch and his head be thrown back. His groan of pain was animalistic and chilling.

He was in pain; she could see it in every one of his movements. But there was something else there, too. He was burning up, but shaking from the cold. This wasn't right.

 _Something was wrong._ There was something she wasn't seeing, something she was missing.

She pushed that thought out of her head. She couldn't know what was wrong or what she could do to help until she got working. Once she could see what was going on with his wound, she could treat him. She just had to work faster.

"We'll need hot water," Clarke added. She glanced at Octavia, a small grimace on her face. "Please." Octavia didn't look offended by Clarke's lack of manners. Instead, she nodded her head and tossed Bellamy another package of matches.

"You do the fire, Bell." She continued digging in the bag, not bothering to look at her brother for too long. Clarke didn't look at him for long either. As she readied herself for her procedure, she was just thankful that more and more light filled the small room.

 _She had to save him._

That was the only thought running through her mind. She couldn't let him die, not when she could save him. With the others, they died instantly. Wells was dead before she noticed he was stabbed. Monty died immediately from a spear. She wasn't too sure how Lincoln died, but she didn't hear any of his cries, so she assumed it was a fast death too. With Raven, she could never be sure, but she hoped her death was quick and painless.

 _She couldn't let him die._

He let out another groan of pain and Clarke took a deep breath. While it wouldn't be pretty and it would be painful, she could save him. She would get his wound bandaged and then make the call about his fever.

"Octavia, find anything else?" she asked as she ripped Murphy's shirt open.

Clarke tugged on Murphy's ripped shirt, lifting it away from his skin. She managed to avoid jostling the arrow as she ripped it up and off his body. She left his arms covered by the material, to try and stop him from shivering. The material was sticky and hot, covered in his own blood. She hid her emotions behind a mask as she examined his injury.

The skin around the wound was inflamed and sweltering red. She pressed her fingers gently to the skin surrounding the arrow and frowned when she felt how hot the flesh was. He let out a hiss as she touched it.

Without responding to Clarke's question, Octavia dropped several medical items on the desk beside her. The sewing kit, several packages of bandages, a single roll of gauze, a pack of floss, and antiseptic were all that were left of their large haul from earlier.

Clarke nodded and a sense of hope washed over her. This was good. _Really good._ They could work with what they had. This was more than what they had when she removed the arrow from Murphy the first time.

"Thanks. I'll need a really hot knife," she told her. Before she could say anything else, Octavia was already on her way over to the fire, a small knife in her hand.

Clarke glanced back at Murphy's wound, a familiar feeling settling over her. _She had been here before_. She could do this. She could save him.

Remembering how much he screamed last time, she searched for something for him to bite on. She bent down to the floor to pick up a crumbled blue shirt. She balled it up and positioned it between Murphy's lips.

His jaw had gone slack and his eyes were blinking slowly. When his eyes were open, they weren't focusing on anything. Sweat was running down his head, making his hair wet and stick to his skin. She had never seen him so pale before. Even his lips were starting to look blue. Clarke pressed her hand to his forehead. He was still burning with a fever.

"Murphy," she called gently. "You're going to have to bite down on that, okay? I'm going to be working on you. You can't scream." She hoped he remembered the drill from the last time she operated on him. He couldn't scream, otherwise the other tributes would know where they were. He had to stay as silent as possible.

He still screamed the last time they did this, even after she told him not to. She didn't blame him – not one bit – but she knew he was a screamer. Now, she would be working on his abdomen, on a deep wound. If he couldn't help but scream before, she knew he would have to scream now.

"Murphy, just… try, okay? Try to stay as quiet as you can. I know it'll hurt. It's going to be bad – so bad. I'll try to be as fast as I can, and I won't have to ever operate on you again. I promise." His eyes weren't focusing on hers. "Okay?"

 _"_ _Raven."_

Her mouth went dry at his desperate plea. His voice was hoarse and raspy, just like he inhaled a bunch of smoke. It was weak too, which was to be expected. What chilled her the most was what he said.

 _He was asking for her. He was asking for Raven._

Clarke's heart broke. Between the chaos on the roof and losing three of her friends, she nearly forgot about that final moment between Murphy and Raven. _They kissed._ And now she was dead.

"Bellamy," Clarke called out, her voice thick with emotion. She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly several times to clear away the tears. "Bell, you need to sit with him, okay? Watch him. Distract him."

"Raven." Murphy's voice had grown stronger, more determined. His eyes were blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust to the world around him. Clarke's heart broke. "Raven? Where's she?"

"She's not here," Clarke felt herself saying. Her mind had gone numb.

Did he know that she was dead? _Not likely_. He got shot long before he was pulled off the roof by Octavia. He was already on the ground before Raven even offered to set off the explosives. He didn't know she was dead.

 _Somehow, that made it worse._

She wanted to tell him the truth, she did. She wanted to tell him the truth about everything. She wanted to let him know that Raven died for them – that she sacrificed herself so they could live.

 _But she couldn't._

Murphy needed something to hold onto. He needed hope and strength if he was going to get through this. What would happen if he found out that their friends died? What would he do when he found out the one person he connected with most – Raven – was murdered? That she was gone and never coming back?

So, instead, _she lied_.

"Raven's busy," Clarke told him softly. Her heart ached. "Bellamy will be right beside you the whole time though, okay?"

"No. Need her." He licked his lips and blinked lazily. "Please."

Last time, she helped him through the surgery. She clutched his hand tightly and talked him down from the pain. Even when he struggled to breathe from the overwhelming pain, she had been beside him, talking him back to their world.

She'd been the one that connected with him the most over the last week in the arena. They cared about each other in ways Clarke hadn't originally thought, but made perfect sense.

 _And now she was gone._

"She'll be back soon, I promise." The words tasted like poison on her tongue.

She wouldn't be back soon. She wouldn't ever be coming back.

But he needed hope. He needed something to hang on to.

"I'm going to start," she announced. Briefly, she made eye contact with Bellamy. Under the candle light, he looked frightened. His eyes were wide as he watched her movements, his lips stretched thinly across his face. He was already clutching Murphy's hand with his own, anticipating his cries.

Clarke realized with a heavy heart that the Blakes never witnessed Murphy's first operation. Everyone who helped him survive that first injury was gone now. _Dead_.

It was just her and Murphy left from their original group.

Before she could think about that any more, Clarke wrapped her hands around the arrow. She remembered that the arrows the Careers shot at them as they ran weren't barbed or hooked. It would be a simple removal, just like many nights ago, after the bloodbath. It would be a simple tug and then she could get to work.

She glanced at Bellamy, sending him a pleading look. She hoped he understood what she was trying to say. She was going to start and it wasn't going to be pretty.

Then, she pulled the arrow from his abdomen. His eyes flew open in shock, his body growing rigid from the pain. She could see his mouth open up in a silent scream and his fists clenched tightly. Bellamy rocked forward, hovering his face inches away from Murphy's. They locked eyes.

"Hey. It's going to be fine, okay?" Bellamy began talking before Murphy could start screaming. They both knew that his silence would break soon. She wasn't even sure his silence was by choice. The pain that filled his body probably made it impossible for him to scream. "We're all right here, Murphy."

"Octavia, you'll need to hand me things as I work," Clarke muttered as she glanced closely at his wound. The young Blake took the arrow from her hands, and examined it. "I…" Her thoughts slowed to a stop when she noticed something.

 _It wasn't good._

The wound had already begun to swell and blister. The skin was red and warm all around where the arrow hit.

She pulled her hand back from the wound, frowning when the blood on her fingers felt different. It was thicker than usual. She was surprised that she could tell, but she had to chalk that up to how many times her hands had been covered in blood in her lifetime. She could even see it visually with her eyes.

No. _No, this wasn't right_. This wasn't good.

Panic set in her bones.

Clarke pulled away from his wound and turned to Octavia. The young girl still held the arrow in her hands and was staring at the tip in horror. Their eyes met and for a brief moment, the world stood still.

"Poison."

Clarke swallowed thickly and she felt a crushing weight hit her.

The arrow was poisoned. _Murphy was poisoned._

"What?" Bellamy asked, his voice panicked. He reached for the arrow and brought it to his eyes. After only a few seconds of examining it, his face fell. Octavia didn't wait for him to confirm what she already found out.

"Clarke, that arrow had poison on the end of it." Clarke ripped her gaze away from Octavia's dragging it back down to Murphy.

His symptoms fell into place. The swelling, the fever, the pain, the thick blood. It was a poison of sorts, coursing through his veins, impacting every inch of his body. It was spreading further through his abdomen. She wasn't sure what poison was on the arrow, but it wasn't good.

Clarke tried to run through what she remembered about poisons and how to treat wounds caused by them.

She didn't remember much.

District 6 didn't have any poisonous animals around, and people were skilled enough to not eat poisonous plants. The only time she ever encountered poisoned people was when something went wrong in the engineering bay and a chemical was consumed.

But she had seen similar things to this before. She could figure it out. _She had to._

Poison. There had to be an antidote, right? She didn't think a poison would be created without there being an antidote somewhere in the world. That would be the easiest way to heal him.

 _But they didn't have the antidote._

Most likely, it would be with whoever used the poison on Murphy. The Careers would have it, or hidden it, or destroyed it. She didn't have any hope in finding it in time to save him.

She'd have to do something else. _What could she do?_

She glanced down to the pile of medical supplies. Her heart felt like it had fallen into her stomach. She wasn't too sure what she could work with from that pile. Sure, those items were good for sealing wounds and stitching up cuts, but they weren't very useful when it came to curing poison.

Clarke could think of a million different ways for how this could go wrong. _It wasn't a hard task to do._

What was hard was thinking of one way this could go _right_.

She didn't know what to do to treat him without the antidote.

"I- Uh-" She swallowed thickly. Her tongue felt heavy and awkward in her mouth. "I don't know how to treat this." Her eyes met Bellamy's. He looked scared. "Please tell me you know how."

He frowned. "No." Murphy let out a wimped of pain below him. He turned back to the man on the table. "Hey, it's going to be alright, okay? Just relax. Focus on something else."

"I don't either, Clarke," Octavia said. Her face looked as broken as Clarke's heart felt.

Clarke felt like crying. She didn't know what to do to fix him. She rubbed her hands together vigorously, willing an idea to come to mind.

 _It didn't._

"We need the antidote," Clarke determined. "Octavia, check the backpacks. It'll probably a tiny vial with a needle."

She sent her a sombre look. "I went through all the bags and pulled out everything that wasn't food," she said. "Clarke, I-"

"Check again," Bellamy insisted. Octavia left Murphy's side without another word. "Can we heal him without it? Won't it just leave his system?"

"I don't know," she said.

The whole situation was becoming too much for her. She didn't know how to help him and he was dying. She felt like if he died, it would be on her. _She was the one with medical training. She was supposed to know what to do in situations like this. She was the one that was supposed to be able to fix people, no matter what._

She was failing them. She couldn't remember how to treat poison without the antidote. She didn't know how to make his pain go away.

Oh, gods. He was going to die.

"Just think," Bellamy insisted. "You can figure it out. You can-"

"No I can't, Bellamy," she snapped. She rounded on him, unshed tears in her eyes. "I don't know." Her voice cracked with emotion as she spoke. "I don't know what to do to fix him. I know nothing about poison, and, even if I did, we don't know what type was used on him." She lifted up a bandage and shook it angrily. "All we have is _this_ and some _dental floss_ , Bellamy. How the hell am I supposed to remove poison from his body with _that_!?" She chucked the bandage back down on the table.

"Nothing," Octavia confirmed. She walked back over to her side of the table, placing her hand gently on Murphy's face. Her frown deepened. "He's burning up."

"It's the poison," she confirmed. "I've never seen anything like this before. I don't know what to do." She took a step away from the table, doubling over slightly. She felt like she was going to get sick. "Oh, gods, I don't know what to do." Tears were building up in her eyes, begging to fall down her face. She tried to blink them away, but they went tumbling down her cheeks.

They were silent as Clarke tried to regain her composure. Murphy kept letting out several long groans. He was in pain and dying _and she couldn't help him._

She thought through her years of training, trying to pin point something that could help them in that situation. Nothing had prepared her for this. In every situation back home, she had the proper supplies. She always had the right medications and she knew all of the common injuries. Poison wasn't a common thing in District 6, but, if they got a case, they could treat it easily.

"Okay, let's all think," Bellamy said quickly. Clarke sucked in a deep breath and pushed all of her reservations to the side. She straightened up and walked back to the table, a stone cold expression on her face. She felt numb. He reached out and grasped her hand lightly. "We aren't putting this all on you, Clarke. We all can think."

"Yeah," Octavia agreed. "We're a team. We just need to think outside the box."

"We don't have the supplies. We don't know how to help him. What's something that could be done, no matter the injury?" Bellamy's hands were clenched as he ran through different situations.

Clarke's heart stopped as she remembered something.

 _The red seaweed._

She thought back to one of the first nights she was in the arena. They were all out of water. They were slowly dying of thirst. Wells and her had decided to head back to the city centre in search of water, and bring it back to the group. Instead, they found a lake covered in red seaweed.

 _"_ _It's identical to the stuff back home, even though that was lighter red. Dad used it for everything back home; teas, sunburn ointment, and even if we got a tiny cut, he would always put it on us. One time, I got bit by a snake out there and we weren't close to any medical facilities. He made a tea, made me drink it, and wrapped it around my leg," Wells said._

 _"_ _And it worked?"_

 _"_ _I'm still here, aren't I? My dad said it worked like magic or something, I don't know." He brought it to his nose and sniffed. He pulled a face. "Yup, this is it. I couldn't forget that stench even if I tried to."_

Clarke remembered that smell too. It was a mix between mould and onions. It was terrible and putrid, scorching the inside of her nose.

If it could cure snake venom like Wells claimed, maybe it could work with Murphy.

"Clarke? What is it?" Bellamy questioned once he seen her stunned expression.

She turned to him, nearly breathless. "There's red seaweed in all of the lakes in this arena," she explained. "Wells told me that it saved him from snake venom once, back home. I – uh – I think maybe we could use it to save Murphy." She gave him a desperate look. "It's all we have to go on."

"That's great, but we aren't around any lakes," Octavia pointed out. Bellamy was looking at Clarke, equally as stunned as she was.

"There is one," he said. "Yesterday, when Clarke and I got here, we both seen the edge of the forest. Beyond the tree line is a lake. Do you think it'll be there?"

"It's been at every lake I've seen," she said. "The water was tinted red at that lake. It has to be there." Murphy let out a deeper groan and his head lulled to the side. That was the breaking point for Clarke. This was the only option they had. "I'm going to get it. Watch him until I get back."

"No!" Octavia snapped. She was already moving back around the table, her face set in stone. "I'm going. You're needed here Clarke. Just tell me what I'm looking for."

She briefly glanced at Bellamy, gauging his reaction. It was risky to be out in the arena alone, never mind right after an attack, and never mind Octavia, who was barely upright. The Careers could've tracked them to the shop. She would be alone and defenceless, and she still wasn't healed completely from her own injury. She could barely walk.

"Do it." Bellamy's voice was hard and emotionless. "What does it look like?"

With Bellamy's assurance, she jumped right into explaining. "It's a red seaweed. It was very leafy and came in clumps. If you break off one of the larger branches and smell it, it'll smell absolutely awful. It's a mix of mould and onions." Octavia nodded her head. She picked up a knife from the ground – Murphy's – and reached for her own sword. Without turning around, she headed for the door.

"Got it."

Bellamy left Murphy's side, going to the door to move their barricade. The two siblings glanced at each other for what could've been the last time.

"Be safe."

"You too."

Then, she was gone. As soon as she took off into the night, Bellamy closed the door and let out a loud huff.

Now that she had a plan, Clarke jumped into action. She reached for the water that Bellamy had set to boil in the water bottle, pulling it off the flames with a cloth wrapped around her hands. She reached for their second bottle, poured half off, and set the remained of the bottle to boil.

She'd clean the wound first as best as she could and get some water into him. Hopefully Octavia would be back by then, where she would boil half of the seaweed to make a tea. The remainder, she would use for bandaging his wound.

She didn't know if it would work, but it was the best chance they had.

Her train of thought was broken with Murphy's loud cry of pain. His head hit the table roughly and the bunched up shirt rolled from his mouth. Clarke went racing back to him, quickly followed by Bellamy.

Murphy let out a scream, sending a chill up Clarke's spine.

"Hey," Clarke whispered as softly as she could. She leaned over his face, trying to catch his eyes. They kept fluttering open every so often, but would never focus on her. He looked like he was seconds away from passing out. She swore under her breath. "Bellamy, keep him awake. He can't pass out. I need him up to monitor him."

"Murphy, can you hear me?" Bellamy took her place at Murphy's side, leaning over to stare him right in the eyes.

She raced back to a pile of clothes and grabbed the thickest sweater she could find. As she ran back to Murphy, she balled it up in her hands. She gently lifted his head up and placed the cloth under him. If he slammed his head again, it would be on something soft at least.

He let out a loud and painful moan. Clarke reached towards the damp shirt and grimaced.

"I'm sorry. I know this is shitty." She rolled it up and pressed it into his mouth to muffle his cries. She turned to Bellamy. "Keep him awake and keep him quiet." Before he could respond, Clarke was already moving again.

She quickly poured part of the boiling water into the second water bottle, careful to not burn her hands. They had enough problems already, they didn't need their only medic getting injured.

She left the water to cool at the side of the desk and began cutting strips of gauze. Once the tea was made, she would need to use that for bandages.

As she was cutting the fifth strip, Bellamy called for her. "Clarke!" His voice had an edge of panic to it. "He's not breathing!"

She swore and dropped her knife. Bellamy was right, Murphy had completely stopped breathing and his eyes were wide, locked on his. His lips were parted in a silent scream.

"Get him on his side!" she commanded, rushing up to him. She helped Bellamy roll him onto his right side, expelling fluid from his mouth. His eyes locked on Clarke's. It was chilling, looking into the eyes of a dying man. Clarke rubbed gentle circles on his back, and spoke softly. "Good. Just breath, okay? It's almost over. Good."

He shuddered as he sucked in a breath. "Clarke," he rasped. She smiled and nodded her head.

"It's me. Bellamy and I are here. You're going to be fine, okay."

"What about Lincoln? Octavia? Raven?" Clarke took it that he remembered Monty dying on the stairs.

Just hearing him ask about their dead friends sent a chill to her heart. She broke eye contact and looked up at Bellamy, hoping he could provide an answer.

"Don't worry about that," he told him. "Focus on breathing, got it?" Murphy's head jerked up and down, in what Clarke assumed to be a nod.

"Cold." His body let out a shiver. Clarke pulled a nearby blanket over him, covering his exposed upper body.

"I'm going to clean your wound, Murphy. Okay?" He mumbled something that she couldn't understand.

She reached for some of the antiseptic Octavia had left on the table and a strip of gauze. As she cleaned, his teeth clenched and the shirt muffled his screams. Bellamy gripped his hand tightly.

"Just listen to my voice, okay?" She could hear the panic and pain in him as he spoke. "I don't think I ever told you about how I sprained my left pinky once." If the situation wasn't so serious, she would've laughed at how ridiculous the injury sounded.

"Octavia was young still, and had the absolute worst temper. Seriously. She was such a brat." Murphy didn't laugh at that, but he quieted down. "She loved to throw her stuff around our house. She and I shared a room, you know. We weren't the wealthiest people in our district, so our house was relatively small.

"One night, she was being a real brat. She wanted to keep reading while I wanted to sleep, and she refused to turn off the light. I got up to go tell mom – classic Bellamy, by the way, always tattling on her – and she threw her book at me. I blocked it before it could reach my face, but it bounced off my pinky. Sprained it. It was terrible.

"And, you know the thing that kids do when they injure a sibling? You know, when the one who got hurt starts crying, and the other one all of a sudden becomes their best friend? Yeah, that was Octavia.

"She ran to me and tried to get me to be quiet by the loudest shush I ever heard. She kept pressing tiny kisses to my hand because _kisses always make it feel better._

"The funniest thing was, she tried to get me _not_ to tell mom so she wouldn't get me in trouble, by offering me ice cream. I hate ice cream."

"And you didn't tell mom," Octavia recalled, entering the room again. Clarke was so exhausted that she didn't even jump. "Got it." She held up an armful of the red seaweed and rushed towards Clarke. It was perfect timing – she had just finished cleaning his wound.

"Good." She took a bunch of the seaweed and stuffed it into the bottle of boiling water. "You can put the rest on the table," she instructed.

A heavy silence filled the room as they waited for the seaweed to boil. Murphy's groans filled the air. Octavia slipped next to Bellamy, peering into his face.

"How is he doing?"

"Not good. Clarke, how's the tea coming?"

She didn't bother answering, as she brought the freshly boiled water off the fire. She poured some into another bottle and handed it to Octavia.

"Let it cool before giving it to him."

Clarke stuffed some of the pre-cut gauze strips into the liquid and pulled them out. She hoped that it would work. She could tell the poison was spreading, by the way his groans were getting louder and the more he was shaking. They needed to act fast.

She placed the gauze into in wound once it was cool enough. As soon as she did, his eyes flew open once more. She tried to tune out his screams of pain as she tried to get the seaweed to cover his wound. For what felt like the millionth time, she wished Wells was with her in that moment. He had seen the seaweed in action before. He understood how it worked, unlike her.

"It's cool, Clarke," Octavia said, referring to the tea. "I'm going to give it to him, okay?"

"Good. Thanks."

As Clarke worked, she could hear Octavia coaxing Murphy into drinking some of the tea. He sputtered as it went into his mouth. She knew from first hand experience that it smelt bad, she couldn't imagine the taste.

When the gauze turned red with blood, she replaced it with a new one. When the water was cool enough, she poured it over his skin. Murphy's screams had turned to whimpers and sobs. She hoped that was a good sign.

After she worked for a while, she left a bunch of seaweed and gauze wrapped around his torso. Bellamy was still talking to Murphy, trying to distract him, and Octavia was trying to feed him tea. She examined him, hoping for better results.

 _It was worse._

His eyes were bloodshot when he opened them, and he felt even hotter. His clothing was completely soaked through with sweat and his limbs trembled. Spit ran from his mouth and dribbled down his chin, getting lost in the mix of sweat on his collarbone. His hair was dripping onto the table below him.

"Let's wait," Clarke said after a moment. "Let's see if the seaweed helped at all. I'm sure it'll bring his fever down." Octavia set the empty water bottle down and pulled away from the table. Murphy continued to sob.

"He's not getting better," Bellamy said, his voice tired and strained.

Clarke wondered how long it had been since the explosion. While it felt like it had only been minutes, she knew it was more accurately hours.

"Give it time."

* * *

 **This chapter was originally almost 15k, so it's been split into multiple ones. Hopefully that explains that sudden ending to this chapter!**

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter. If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
 **District 3 Female: Raven** **  
**District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Male: Murphy  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **I was really nervous to post the last few chapters (and I still am nervous about them) because I hate killing off characters. I love these guys with my whole heart and I adore writing for them. (Good plan, Paw. Write a fanfiction for The Hunger Games, where only one character can survive. I clearly planned that well!)**

 **Reviews are appreciated!**

 **Paw**


	39. Chapter 39: Fade Away

**The warnings are at the bottom of the chapter again! If you feel like you would like to read those, please head there. Please mind the spoilers though!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 39: Fade Away**

* * *

Octavia dropped to the ground heavily, her hand clutching her stomach. Her face was twisted in pain and her brow streaked in sweat. The fire had turned to embers and Clarke knew the sun was already setting. It had been hours since they arrived back in the shop, and an hour since they fed Murphy the seaweed.

"Bell, stop pacing," she said sternly. Clarke rested her head in her hands heavily, too absorbed in ignoring the reality of the world to pay attention to anything.

"He's not improving."

"Give it time."

He spun around to look at her. "We _have._ He's still in pain." He shot a pitiful look at Murphy, who still laid groaning on the table. Clarke had finished stitching him up and wrapped pieces of seaweed along the fresh wound, but he didn't look any better.

His skin was grey and his lips blue. His screams had simmered into sobs, which turned to whimpers, and eventually died out completely. He was breathing raggedly and had passed out from the pain. Every few seconds, his body would shake from chills despite how sweaty and feverish he got.

Clarke tried to ignore her suspicion that the seaweed wasn't working. She tried to ignore how _broken_ she felt. She didn't think of Raven, or Lincoln, or Monty. She didn't think about how they all died earlier that day. And she definitely didn't think about the fact they were all laughing only minutes before it happened.

 _No._

She tried to keep herself numb. She knew as soon as she let herself feel the pain, she wouldn't be able to come back from it. She could feel a storm of anger and anguish building in her.

 _Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it._

"Look at me. I didn't heal instantly."

"You also were injected with Capitol drugs, O. Murphy has been drenched in seaweed water. It's a little different." His fell silent and continued to pace. Octavia clutched her stomach and lifted her shirt with a grimace. Her skin was streaked with fresh blood. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled. "I've been on my feet a lot. I'm not used to it." She pulled her shirt back down and let her head fall against the wall, her eyes shut. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"I don't want to talk about it." Her voice was heavy and sharp. " _I can't talk about it._ " Clarke felt the exact same way. Now that her hands weren't busy, she felt the thoughts and emotions she had pushed off were coming back.

 _Her friends were dead._

 _She abandoned them._

She could see Raven's eyes as Bellamy pulled her off the roof. She felt Monty's blood hit her face when the spear flew into him. She could see Lincoln's body, lifeless. She could feel the whoosh of arrows around her face, some flying only inches away from her nose. She could feel Murphy tugging on her hand, pulling her towards safety. She could hear Raven's screams of utter heartbreak as she realized Monty sacrificed himself for her.

"Clarke?" Bellamy turned to her, concern on his face. She jolted as she was broken from her thoughts. He was staring at her, expectantly.

"Huh?" She didn't look to meet his eye. Instead, she chose to stare at a small pebble a few feet away from her on the ground.

"I asked how you were?" She shook her head, turning away from him. "You threw up earlier. Are you okay?"

"Physically, I'm fine, yes." She couldn't look him in the eyes. _He_ was the one to pull her away from that burning building. _He_ was the one to keep her from saving her friends. He let Raven sacrifice herself. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"Okay, and what about-"

"I'm fine," she said. She got up from the ground and walked towards Murphy, still not looking him in the eye. "I need to check his condition."

When she reached him, she pressed two fingers to his neck. His heart was racing faster than she ever felt before. When she felt his forehead, his temperature was sky high.

Her heart plummeted to her stomach. He wasn't improving, even after an hour of waiting. In fact, he was getting worse.

"Mmmmm." His voice was weak and faint, but it was there. Bellamy and Octavia clearly heard him too, as they bolted towards his bedside. Clarke reached towards Murphy's dressings and lifted them, examining his wound.

It was swollen, red, and bleeding still. In fact, the swelling had spread further into his abdomen and his blood coming from his wound was thicker. Her head was spinning as she comprehended what that meant.

 _It didn't work._

 _They were too late._

His symptoms were worsening, not even slowed down by the red seaweed. Either they were too late in administering it, or it wasn't as great of a medicine as Wells thought.

"Clarke?" Octavia's voice was desperate too. Both Blakes were looking at her, completely terrified.

She swallowed thickly. "No improvements," she stated, her voice empty of emotion. "I don't think he's not going to get better," she stated. Her heart was heavy. Her whole body hurt.

"Well… More seaweed." Bellamy's face was broken. "We can keep-"

"No." Clarke was startled by Murphy's voice. She never even noticed him coming to. His eyes blinked rapidly several times before landing on Bellamy. "Hey, sunshine."

"Is he hallucinating?" Bellamy asked Clarke, genuine worry on his face.

Murphy sent him a smug smirk. "Of course not. But you're my sunshine, Blake." His voice was weak as he spoke. His head turned slightly to the side. "Hey, Little Blake." Octavia turned to Clarke, hope in her eyes.

"He's talking. That's a good thing, right?"

Just as she was about to respond, Murphy's body tensed up and he coughed. Blood came dribbling out of his lips.

Clarke didn't need to answer. It was very obvious that the answer was no. He wasn't going to get better. _The seaweed didn't work._

"You look upset," Murphy mumbled. His eyes faded out of focus for a brief moment before he blinked rapidly, focusing them once again on Bellamy.

"How are you feeling?" Bellamy asked, avoiding his question.

Murphy let out a short chuckle before his face contorted into pain. "Worse than my mouth tastes," he grumbled. "I taste foot." Clarke didn't have the heart to laugh at his lame humor. He was tasting the red seaweed, no doubt. _The seaweed that failed._

"What do we do?" Octavia asked, turning to Clarke. "Why are the sponsors sending us stuff?" She chewed on her lip, trying to come up with an answer. Truth be told, she didn't know.

It was Bellamy who answered. "Because they don't think their money should be spent here." He swallowed thickly, glancing away from Murphy. "They don't think he'll survive."

"Why would you say that?" Octavia's voice was harsh and sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

Bellamy's face hardened. "Think back, O. To the 32nd Games. Do you remember when Bryan was on the brink of death from pneumonia? He had _literally_ dozens of sponsors back at home, but nobody wanted to spend the money for medicine for him. He was too far gone for any medicine to save him. They didn't want to spend their sponsor money on a tribute that had the odds against him." He glanced at Murphy, pain in his eyes. "That's what's happening here. The odds are against him. They're not going to send medicine because they don't think it's worth it."

"Of course it's worth it," Clarke said heatedly. "He's a human being! Shouldn't everyone try anything to save him!?"

Bellamy gave Clarke a soft look. "These are the Games. People are meant to die." Before she could snap at him, he continued, "I agree with you. Nobody deserves to die. _Nobody_. But the whole point of sending us in here is so only one of us – supposedly the best – will come out alive."

What he was saying made sense. Sponsors wouldn't want to spend hundreds of dollars to send medicine to a kid that was too far gone. They wanted to see a show, a spectacular fight. They wouldn't if they went around saving every tribute. Without death, there wouldn't be the Hunger Games.

"So… _what do we do_?"

For the first time in hours, Clarke met Bellamy's eyes. She could see the torment and the pain in them.

"We wait."

* * *

The sun had set by the time Murphy's condition had dropped dramatically. He had fallen asleep wrapped in a blanket, but was still shivering. His hands were ice cold, while the rest of his body was extremely warm. His breathing was shallow and uneven. Every time he breathed, it looked like a struggle.

Clarke had her jacket pulled tightly around her arms as she rested against the wall. Her eyes were closed and she fought to think about anything other than what happened that day.

"Clarke?" Her head shot up and she instantly clamoured over to where Murphy sat, dying. His voice was frail and weak. She could tell he was barely holding on. She wasn't too sure how much longer he would be with them. "Where's Raven?" It wasn't the first time he asked that question. Clarke kept replaying their kiss, over and over. She wondered if that was their first kiss, or if they'd been together for longer, but kept it from everyone. She kept thinking about all their conversations and jokes and clear affection for each other. It made her heart hurt even more. His eyes locked on hers, something clouding over in them. "She died… D-didn't she?"

The air got sucked out of her lungs and she felt her gut twist painfully. She didn't remember when, but she noticed tears were falling down her face.

"She did." Bellamy's voice was soft as he leaned over Murphy across from Clarke.

Murphy's eyes shut at that, tears streaming down the sides of his face. His mouth twisted into one of pain. She had seen him in pain before – a lot of it, too – but this was different. It was a different agony. It looked like he was broken and defeated.

Clarke let out a tiny sob as reality hit her. _She was gone. Monty was gone. Lincoln was gone. Murphy was dying._ She had failed them. _Wells was dead. Charlotte was a traitor._ Her whole alliance had fallen apart.

As soon as Murphy died, everyone from her original alliance would be gone.

"I'm sorry," Clarke let out as she cried. Murphy opened his eyes. They were filled with confusion and pain in multiple levels. "I… She shouldn't have died. None of them should have."

"And Lincoln?" Murphy's voice sounded just as broken as his body. Clarke sent him a heartbroken look. She didn't need any words – he understood. She could physically see his face fall further with the news. "Octavia?"

"I'm here." She walked up to stand beside Bellamy, reaching for his hand.

While they had never been close, she knew the young girl was feeling the tremendous weight of loss. She cared about Murphy too, just like she cared about all of their allies. While she had always felt like an outsider due to being unconscious most of the time, she still had an appreciation for the alliance that just fell apart.

"I never told Raven how I felt," he mumbled, his voice strained. His face was filled with so much pain that it felt like Clarke's chest was going to split open.

She grasped his hand tighter. "She knew." Without a doubt, she knew that Raven understood he cared about her. "She cared about you, too, Murphy."

"How did she…" Murphy couldn't say the word, so he left his sentence hanging. He blinked rapidly several times, forcing himself to stay awake. "Raven. How?"

"She saved us," Bellamy said. "You remember the explosives she planted? She went back inside to set them off while we escaped. Without her, we wouldn't have survived. She saved all of us."

Murphy's face was emotionless as he slipped on mask. "She died alone?"

Clarke felt like that was a strange question to ask, but she didn't dare say so. Bellamy gave her a confused look before responding.

"I guess so, yeah." Murphy fell into silence. "He's talking. That's good, right?" He directed his question at Clarke.

She gave him a pained look. "Not necessarily," she whispered. "If it was paired with other signs showing his condition was improving, I'd say so. But…" She glanced down at Murphy. "It isn't."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Murphy spoke again. "I don't want to die alone."

Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia hadn't left his side since the last time he spoke. Clarke had her back pressed against the edge of the table Murphy laid on, while Octavia had pulled up a chair and sat, her head drooping onto the table. While the two girls sat, Bellamy couldn't. He hadn't stopped pacing since Murphy passed out.

"We're here," Octavia spoke first, stretching up to see his face. "You won't be alone."

* * *

Clarke watched as Murphy's breathing turned even heavier. His lips were chapped and had completely lost their colour. His eyes were closed and his face was hanging numbly. She swallowed thickly and continued to chew on her lip.

She didn't know how long it had been since the explosion. It felt like hours, and, at the same time, it felt like seconds. She had been pushing back the pain and the heartbreak for hours, trying not to let her emotions hit her.

She was not one the be scared of emotion. She always accepted emotion as part of being human, and never tried to hide them or burry them.

 _Until the Games._

She felt like she was doing that a lot while in the Capitol. To play the game, she had to be numb and she had to wear masks. She had to be a different person than she was.

Dealing with the deaths of her alliance members was hard. It was tearing her up from the inside. Every breath she took, she felt her pain intensify. Wave after wave of raw emotions hit her. _Again and again._ Like the waves on a rocky shore line. Or like lava pouring down the slope of a volcano. _It just kept coming and intensifying._

She reached out and took Murphy's hand in her own, trying anything to keep her mind away from the storm in her mind. The silence had given her a lot of time to think, which she hated. She didn't wan to think. She didn't want to feel.

She was numb. As they sat in the silence, she tried to keep her mind occupied. She ran over as much information as she could remember from her anatomy textbook, quizzing herself on any school subject she could remember; all to keep her mind away from what she felt.

She couldn't fall apart. _She couldn't._ If she did, she wasn't sure if she could come back from it. With Wells, she had her friends to pull her back in. She had her friends to take care of, which helped keep herself from falling apart.

 _Now, they were gone._

She had the Blakes, yes, but it wasn't the same. She didn't know if they could even pull her in from the darkness that hovered over her from losing her friends.

 _She promised herself she would die before they would._ She told herself she would give her life in a heartbeat to save theirs.

But she didn't.

As Raven sacrificed herself, she ran away. When her friends needed her most, she wasn't there.

 _She failed them._ She failed herself.

So, Murphy's hand was a good distraction. It was rough and calloused, more so than Bellamy's. She knew while Bellamy was a warrior, Murphy was a worker. They both had tough lives, trying to work their way towards a better one.

 _He deserved more. He deserved better._ Murphy didn't deserve to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. He didn't deserve to be sacrificed to a tyrant government.

 _None of them did._

Murphy. Lincoln. Monty. Raven. Charlotte. Wells. Octavia. Bellamy.

 _They didn't deserve this._ They were just kids.

Even Ontari, Cage, Roan and Luna deserved better. _They were kids too._ It wasn't really their faults that they were like this, wasn't it? They were raised to be tributes. They were raised idolizing the Games. They were taught to fight and to be ruthless. _It wasn't their fault._

They were all just kids.

"C- Clarke?" Murphy's voice was lazy as he spoke. His mouth barely moved and his eyes were only open a sliver. She wasn't too sure what was impacting him more – the poison or the blood loss. She was surprised he was still alive, if she was being honest.

"I'm here." She squeezed his hand and peered over his face. "We're all here." Octavia was by his side again, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"Good." He wet his lips as he struggled to speak. "I'm… I'm dying, aren't I?" He tried to force out a smile. "Hard to believe, I know, considering how g- good I look." Clarke couldn't even muster a tiny smile to go with his attempted humor. "I should've c- changed into something more… more… _elegant,_ huh?" Clarke raised an eyebrow at that.

"Elegant? Don't think I've ever heard you request that before," she commented, trying to keep the pain from her voice.

"Y- Yeah. You know. I'll be meeting my parents again, I s- suppose. And the others." His eyes grew heavy and the shut for a long moment. "I hope M- Monty has some of that algae he always t- talks about because _I'm freaking st- starving."_ His words were growing more and more broken as it became harder to talk.

"Murphy, you're dying," Bellamy told him. Octavia smacked his arm. "How in the hell are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry, su- sunshine." A thin smile stretched over his lips. " _Dying_ sounds so m- morbid. Can we just s-say I'm… going to the stars, or som'ing? The c- clouds? Th- that's what they told me. When my p- parents died." He swallowed thickly. She watched as his atom's apple bobbed.

"Murphy. Please, for once in your life, _be serious,"_ Bellamy begged. "You're dying. You understand this, right? _You're going to die."_

"Bellamy, you're being an ass," Octavia snapped. She sent him a harsh look.

"No, it's okay," Murphy wet his lips again. Clarke wanted to get sick as blood flowed from his mouth. "He's going to die, too. T- tomorrow. Next week. Next year. In t- thirty years. _Then_ , we'll be… _even_." Clarke felt a chill settle over her. How could he be so calm talking about death? Maybe it was because he was staring it in the face. "I don't want to be alone."

"We know," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "You won't be." His eyes fluttered closed and he pushed out a deep breath.

For a long second, Clarke was worried _that was it._

Then, he sucked it back in. She let out the breath she was holding.

"I know I'm usually an a- ass, but I don't want to die like one," he mumbled. His eyes fluttered open again, landing on Clarke's. "I'm sorry I was such a shitty ally."

"You're kidding, right?" she said. She could've thought of dozens of different times where Murphy was a good person. Sure, she could think of just as many times where he _was_ an ass, but that was besides the point. "Do you remember that first minute in the Games? You pushed me out of the way of an arrow. You saved my life."

"Yeah, and you carried me," Octavia said, quickly jumping in after Clarke. "Bellamy told me. When the Careers attacked the cave and I passed out, you carried me _for hours_ as we ran to the city."

"You gave me your last package of food," Bellamy said. "When we weren't sure if we were going to have enough to last, you threw your package of dried fruit at me."

"You weren't a bad ally," Clarke insisted. "You were one of the best. _Okay?_ You were a good ally, Murphy. _And a good friend._ We were lucky to have you." The words kept coming out of her mouth like a river flowing down a hill.

"Thanks, C- Clarke." She felt him lightly squeeze her hand. "For asking me to join. _For everything._ " His lips curled into a tired smile. "If I had to die, I'm glad it is here. N- not alone." His smile faded. "Raven d- didn't want to be alone either. She told me. She didn't want to die alone. She was s… She was scared." Before Clarke could fully process his words, his eyes snapped open further. " _I'm scared."_

"I know," Clarke whispered. "I am too. Terrified."

He fell silent again, his eyes growing too heavy to stay open. His body shuddered as he tried to breathe. With every breath he let out, she watched his chest, hoping that it wouldn't be his last one.

 _Please. Please live. Please be okay._

She knew it wasn't possible. She knew he was dying. When someone was so far gone and without any medical help, there was only so much that could be done. _He was going to die._

It terrified her. She didn't want to lose him. She didn't want to lose another friend. _No more. No more pain._

"Y'know, it's pretty damn fucked up that we're even here," he said, his eyes fluttering back open. "I'm seventeen. I was a m- miner, a worker. A shitty person, half the time, sure, but I'm a p- person." He swallowed thickly. "It's so messed up. We're kids. We're reaped. We're forced to fight – forced to kill."

"Murphy, careful," Octavia cautioned. "They're listening."

"It's n- not like they can do anything to me. _I'm already dying._ " He opened his eyes wider. "I hope t- they're listening. _I see through i- it._ It's fucked up. And m- maybe if they _tried_ to be a b- better government, they wouldn't have to kill _children_ to get people to f- follow them." His eyes drooped closed. "I hope they all live m- miserable lives, knowing how many kids they've k- killed."

Octavia glanced at Bellamy, worry on her face. Clarke knew that Bellamy had seen just how corrupt the Capitol was, but she wasn't sure about Octavia. The youngest Blake grew up in District 2, where propaganda for the Capitol ruled their lives. She grew up, being taught to fight for the Capitol. She was taught that the Capitol was right _and good._ She didn't know about District 13. She didn't know what Bellamy knew. She had no reason to hate the Capitol like everyone else did.

"I'm _tired_ ," Murphy groaned. His eyes drooped closed for a long second before springing back open. " _So tired._ "

"It's okay," Clarke whispered. She reached up to brush some of his hair off of his face, just like she did with Atom all those nights ago. Unlike then, tears were streaming down her face, blurring her vison. "It's okay to go." Her voice cracked. It felt like her whole body was splitting in two. "We'll be fine. You're going to be fine." His eyes drooped closed again. They opened once more after a few seconds, looking completely terrified. He was fighting whatever was overtaking him.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. His eyes dropped closed before snapping open. "Fine." They lost focus and he shut them once again.

"Yeah," Clarke promised him. She had dealt with people dying before. She held hands of patients that died. She talked to them as they slowly faded from the world. _She had done this before._ But this was different. This was _Murphy._ Someone she knew. Someone that she cared about. Someone she loved. "It's okay to let go."

"Okay _._ " His voice was raspy and tired. It broke her heart to see him like this. " _Okay_."

And then, he was gone.

His head lulled to the side and his hand went limp in hers. She watched his chest, hoping that final breath wasn't his last. _She hoped he could suck in one last breath._

One more.

 _One more._

But it never came.

Her body curled over, a sob overcoming her chest. She pressed her hands tightly to her middle, almost like she was trying to hold all of the pieces of her soul together. Tears streamed down her face and her neck, gluing hair to her face.

 _He was gone._

 _Dead._

 _Murphy was dead._

Clarke could only sob louder.

* * *

 **CHAPTER WARNINGS: blood, discussion of injuries, character death, description of character death**

* * *

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The ones in bold and italics are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter. If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
 ** _District 5 Male: Murphy_** ** _  
_**District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **I have nothing to say, other than I'm sorry for all the angst recently. Also, I LOVE MURPHY and this chapter will always make me cry. I cried drafting it, I cried writing it, I cried editing it.**

 **Once again, reviews are really appreciated! These chapters are ones I've been terrified to post because of all the character deaths. Let me know your thoughts (and if you're still reading because THE ANGST).**

 **Reviews are appreciated!**

 **Paw**


	40. Chapter 40: May We Meet Again

**This chapter was very difficult to write. I must've rewrote it at least a dozen times and I kept changing things around. If there are any parts that are choppy, this is why.**

 **Warnings: angst**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 40: May We Meet Again**

* * *

"Oh, gods," Octavia mumbled. Her voice sounded hollow as she spoke. Clarke opened her eyes and reached her shaking hand over Murphy's body, reaching for the younger girl. Octavia met her hand in the middle, latching onto any comfort available. Her nails dug into her skin, but Clarke only clung to her tighter.

"It's okay," Clarke sobbed out, not believing the words that flowed from her mouth. She didn't believe it herself. _Nothing about this was okay_. But she needed to comfort Octavia. She needed to provide comfort in whatever way possible, even if it was saying those two words over and over. "It's-"

She was cut off as glass shattered against a bookshelf. Octavia let out a startled yelp as the glass broke. Clarke's head whipped around in time to see another candle fly through the air, smashing into pieces as it hit the wall.

Bellamy let out a snarl as he threw another.

And another.

 _And another._

"Bell!" Octavia ripped her hand away from Clarke, rushing up to her brother. He ignored her and kept throwing the glass jars across the room. She tugged on his shoulder, but he ripped it from her grasp. "Bellamy!" She stood, her hands ghosting over his skin, clearly unsure what to do.

Bellamy threw another.

Another.

 _Another._

Glass pieces were everywhere around the room. Hot wax had splattered on the walls and had begun to trickle onto the floor. Smoke tendrils were lifting towards the celling.

Soon, only one candle remained. The room had been sucked into darkness, in every way possible.

 _Murphy was dead._

Bellamy reached for the final candle, but Octavia beat him to it. She lunged for the last piece of light and clutched it close to her body, away from his grasp. Their eyes met.

"Octavia!" His voice was harsh. She shook her head, more tears spilling from her eyes. Clarke didn't know if it was from the loss or from Bellamy's outburst. "Give it to me!"

"No!" She stumbled away from him, the candle still in her grasp.

"Bellamy, stop! What are you doing?" Clarke spoke for the first time, her voice hoarse from all of the tears. His eyes snapped to hers, rage still burning in them.

With those words, he seemed to snap out of it. His face fell into a blank mask, his eyes growing distant and empty. His jaw was slacked and lips pressed tightly together. He glanced towards Octavia, reached out, and squeezed her shoulder. She let out a small sob and fell into his arms, the candle being placed at the foot of the counter Murphy was slumped on.

Clarke looked away, unknown feelings growing in her chest. Her fists clenched at her side and she grit her teeth. Every breath she took felt like it was an effort. She fought desperately against the emotions she could feel building inside of her.

 _But she failed._

They hit her like she was punched in the gut. Turmoil flooded her system, making her double over. She leaned onto the counter, using the edge to support her weight as she struggled to breathe.

 _Murphy was dead._

 _It was her fault._

 _She couldn't save him._

She couldn't save any of them.

Her eyes squeezed shut so hard that she seen stars behind her eyelids. Breath after breath was sucked in tightly threw her nose. She tried to keep everything locked away.

Now wasn't the time.

 _It wasn't the time._

Her mind wasn't listening. All she could think about was her friends that she failed. All she could think about was how she let them down.

She couldn't pull her thoughts away from the guilt and the pain.

"Clarke?" Her head snapped up, tears blurring her vision. Octavia stood inches away from her, her hand on her shoulder. _But she didn't focus on her._ Her eyes locked on _him,_ only a few feet away from his sister.

He couldn't meet her eyes either. Instead of glancing away like she did last time, she pushed off the table and stared as fiercely as possible. All of the anger and frustration and regret she had inside of her exploded.

Almost like he could sense her eyes, Bellamy glanced up from his shoes, locking eyes with her.

A single beat passed before either of them did anything.

"Why did you do that!?" Her voice was hysterical.

"What?" He frowned. "What did I do?"

She clenched her jaw. _Of course_ he didn't know what she was talking about.

"You dragged me away from them!" she snapped. "Why!? Why would you?"

" _Excuse me?_ " He straightened up, his face growing cold. "I _saved_ you."

"Saved me, really?" Clarke's hands were shaking at her side. She was so angry with him.

He was the one to pull her away from Raven. He knew how much those tributes mattered to her. He knew she was willing to die to save them. _She even told him_ she would rather die alongside them than continue without them. Yet, he was the one to pull her away, against her wishes.

"Yes, _princess_ ," he spat her nickname, the words hitting Clarke like a slap. "I saved you. In case you haven't noticed, _everyone else is dead._ "

"In case I haven't…" Her jaw twitched. "They were my alliance! They were my friends! Of course I noticed they were gone. _Of course I know they're dead._ We're the only ones that survived!" She gestured angrily at all three of them. " _Us!"_

"They were my friends too!" Bellamy snapped. "I cared about them too!"

"You sure sounded like that when you let Raven die!" Clarke yelled. "You… You _let_ her, Bellamy. _You._ If you would have said no, she wouldn't have gone." Hurt flashed across his face. She almost regretted saying it.

"We had no choice!" The mask slipped over his face easily again, hiding the flash of hurt she had witness.

"No choice?" Her voice rose an octave. " _I didn't want this choice._ I told you, Bellamy! _I told you!"_

"So, what? _Huh?_ " His nostrils flared, a different tone settling over him. His stare turned sharp. "I was just _supposed_ to let you _die_?" His voice was as sharp as glass, cutting her to the bone.

Why was he the one mad? He was the one that went against what she wanted! He was the one that let Raven go charging back into the building – he let her die! She didn't do anything. _He shouldn't be mad at her._

"It's not your decision!" Clarke fired back. "I told you and you-"

"I _what_ , huh, Clarke? _Huh?_ " His jaw twitched. She felt anger rising up in her, only encouraging the same with him.

"Quit yelling at me!" she snapped.

" _Don't tell me what to do_!"

"Oh, so _you_ get to decide what is best for _me_ , but I can't ask you for some common curtesy!?"

He laughed dryly. "For it to be a common curtesy, you'd have to be reciprocating." He gave her a look. " _You_ started yelling at _me_ for saving your life!"

"Can you both please stop fighting?" Octavia rested her hand on Bellamy's shoulder. Bellamy shrugged off her grasp.

"Don't get involved," he told her shortly.

She rolled her eyes and poked him in the shoulder. "Don't be an ass." He sent her a dirty look. "I'm trying to help!"

"Well, try with someone who needs your help, O." His words were harsh and his voice heavy. Clarke glared at him. "Just… Please. Stay out of this."

"Fine." She let out a huff of air and took a step back, clearly not impressed. "I'm going outside." Surprisingly, Bellamy didn't argue that. The youngest Blake slipped outside before Bellamy turned back to Clarke.

"You can't blame me for what happened," he snapped, picking up from where they left. "That was Raven's choice. She knew what she had to do. She wasn't looking for my permission."

"Yet, you still gave it!" Clarke clenched her jaw. "You let Raven make her choice, but don't let me make mine."

"Because it was a stupid choice, Clarke!" Bellamy's voice had taken on some desperation. "Okay? It was my choice. You're right. I made that decision for you."

" _Your_ choice," she scoffed. "You knew what I wanted, and you took it away from me!" She couldn't look him in the eyes. "You're such a hypocrite, you know? You're so willing to die for Octavia – you're willing to do anything to protect her – but you make me seem unreasonable for doing the same with my friends!"

"They aren't your family," he said heatedly. His face twisted. "I loved them, too, okay? But-"

"But _nothing,_ " she snapped. "I was willing to die for them. I didn't want anyone sacrificing themselves for me, don't you get it? _My choice._ That's what _I_ wanted. And _you_ took that away from me." He was as still as stone. " _You_ knew what I wanted, and you went against it. How am I supposed to trust you, huh? Tell me how, because I really don't know." Her voice had cracked while she spoke. _Gods_ it felt like her heart was breaking over and over.

She felt angry at the Capitol. She felt angry at the world. At the Careers. At the president. At herself. _Especially at herself._ At Bellamy. _It was everything._ She was just so angry.

And so heartbroken. How had the world she built for herself fallen apart so easily?

"You don't trust me?" He had long abandoned the masks to hide his emotions, which made his words hit her even harder. His face was fallen, his eyes haunted in a way she hadn't seen before. She swallowed thickly.

"I don't know if I do."

They were silent for a moment, which was a stark difference to their yells. She could hear him panting, matching each one of her breaths exactly.

And, in that moment, she believed her words. _She didn't know if she could trust him._ How could she if he went against one of her wishes? How could she trust him when he betrayed her like this?

She couldn't.

 _She wouldn't._

"You don't mean that," he insisted, his eyes locking on to hers. "You don't, Clarke."

"How would you know? We barely know each other!" Her voice broke. He looked away at that. She could feel a piece of her heart crumble off. _It was true._ Three weeks ago, they didn't know the other existed. One month ago, she was sitting in her cell. She was miserable, but at least she wasn't being tortured like she was here. "I don't know if I trust you, Bellamy. Not anymore. Not after this."

Her heart thudded away in her chest. She didn't know if it was adrenaline or complete ignorance, but she could barely feel her pain. She knew it would come later – it always did. _For Monty. For Lincoln. For Raven. For Murphy._

She clenched her jaw.

The one thing she did feel was the betrayal and the pain from his actions inside of her. _How could he do that?_ He let their friends die. He pulled her away from them.

"I _do_ know you, Clarke Griffin." His voice was strong and steady as he spoke, a stark difference to the tremble of his fingers at his side. "I know you better than I know myself, sometimes. I know you're mad at me – at the world – at yourself." She shook her head, denying his claims, even though they were exactly true. "And, you know what? You _can_ be mad at me all you want. Scream at me. Yell at me. Blame me. _I don't care._ I don't care, Clarke! You want to know why?" He didn't give her any time to answer. "Because _you're safe._ I'd rather you hate me than be dead." The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly.

She swallowed thickly, unable to talk.

 _She wasn't able to think._

Finally, she shook her head. She completely ignored everything he said, choosing to focus on that pain blossoming in her chest. _Everything hurt._ Her heart was crushed. Her friends were dead. She couldn't save them. Bellamy went against her wishes. _That_ was what she focused on.

"No. _You don't know me_." Bellamy didn't flinch at her words like he did last time. "I… We…" She shook her head again. "I can't do this, Bellamy." Her voice broke alongside her heart. She quickly wiped at her eyes before tears could flow. The words left her mouth before she could really think things through.

"What? I-" She shook her head, stopping him from speaking.

"I can't do this, Bellamy," she repeated. His jaw locked.

"Do what?" She held her breath and examined his face. From his expression, she could tell he already knew what she was talking about.

"Be here! I can't be here anymore." As soon as she spoke, it was like the dam burst. Every one of her thoughts came pouring out of her mouth. "My friends are dead – I watched them die. They're all dead, but _I'm still here._ And I couldn't save them. _I couldn't do anything."_

"How do you think Raven would feel if I just _let_ you die? Huh? What about Lincoln? Monty?" She felt sick hearing their names. "They died protecting us. They died for this alliance. You understand, right? _Do you understand?_ "

"I understand! I was there! I seen how they died!" She pulled at her top, gesturing to the blood stains across it. "I'm soaked in their blood – in more ways than just one. _I understand._ "

"Do you?" He wasn't backing down. "If they wanted, they could have run. Wells could have fought off Charlotte. Monty could have let the spear hit Raven instead of him. Lincoln could have left the door unguarded. Murphy didn't have to push Raven out of the way. Raven didn't have to go back in. _They chose to die to protect us._ All of us. And I would be dammed if I let you give up your life when they just saved it!"

"They didn't choose this life. They didn't choose to die. They didn't choose to come to the Games. They were forced to. They didn't choose any of this!"

"That is _not_ what I said." He turned away from Clarke, running his hand through his hair. She knew that wasn't what he meant. At least, one part of her did. _The logical part._ The more impulsive parts of her refused to listen to logic. Bellamy tugged on the ends and shut his eyes. "I said that they died to protect the alliance. We shouldn't waste the extra time their sacrifices gave us!"

"The alliance." Her eyes glinted. Raven. Monty. Charlotte. Lincoln. Murphy. Wells. Bellamy. Octavia. _That was the alliance._ The delinquents, according to Bellamy anyways. That's what they were called. Troubled teens. Misfits. Outsiders. "The alliance is dead." Her voice was hoarse.

"No," Bellamy insisted. "There's you, me and Octavia." He stepped towards her. She stumbled backwards, her head shaking.

"They're all dead." She swallowed thickly and locked eyes with him. "I can't do this anymore, Bellamy."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means that I can't do this. I can't. Without them, this alliance is nothing." She glanced away. She couldn't look at him anymore. "I think it's time that we should go our separate ways." He was silent and she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "There's only eight tributes left; me, you, Octavia, Ontati, Cage, Luna, Echo, and the District 10 male."

He was silent for a moment. "That's not the reason," he accused. "There's something else." She shook her head. "Clarke."

"I'm telling the truth, Bellamy," she snapped. She glanced at him, trying to convey the truth behind her words. _The truth that didn't exist._ He was right, of course. There was something more. Being in the final eight had nothing to do with wanting to separate.

"You're lying to me," he pointed out. "I can tell, Clarke. You want to know why? _Because I know you._ " She flinched as her words from earlier were thrown back into her face. "Why? Why now?"

"They died alone and I couldn't save them," she cried, all of her emotion in the words. " _I wasn't there for them._ I can't do _this_ after that _._ " She took a small step backwards, her hands shaking. Bellamy's lips were pressed in a tight line.

"Clarke, if you need forgiveness-"

"No." She cut him off before he could finish. "I don't deserve forgiveness. They're all dead and I couldn't save them." She wiped at her tears. "I have to do this."

He looked away. His jaw muscles twitched as he glanced at the floor and his arms were tightly crossed at his chest.

 _This was it._

"Is this what you want?"

She didn't hesitate. "This is what I need. I need to go."

His jaw was locked when he answered. He didn't bring himself to look at her. "Fine."

She looked at him for one moment longer before turning towards where she dropped the bag she had been carrying. She had no clue what supplies it contained. _At that moment, she didn't care._ She just needed to get out.

She took the bag in her shaking hands. She turned to the foot of the counter, where miscellaneous medical supplies were thrown about. With slight hesitation, she stuffed half of it into her bag. She left several rolls of gauze, bandages and sterilizers for the Blakes. Part of her was terrified by the thought of them needing these supplies, but her not being there to treat them.

She pushed off her hesitation. _She needed this._ This was the only choice. She couldn't continue to live like their lives meant nothing. The alliance died with her friends.

She turned to Bellamy.

"Make sure your sister cleans her wounds," Clarke instructed, her voice distant. She felt distant. "The red seaweed should work on her. Murphy was…" She swallowed thickly. "Murphy was too far gone for it to work. But it'll help her."

He didn't respond. He just stared at her, his eyes burning intensely.

 _This was what she needed._ She needed to do this. She had to go. She needed to mourn. _This was the right choice._

She glanced away from him as she picked up her sword from the floor. She brushed past him as she headed towards the door to the shop, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

If this was the right choice, why did she feel so bad? If this was what she needed to do, why did it feel like her heart was breaking.

Her hand paused as she grasped the knob in her hands.

"Be safe, Bell."

Still, he didn't respond. She forced her tears back and stepped into the cool night.

She was shocked by how dark and cold it was. Being trapped in that shop for hours made her forget how the arena looked. She took in a sharp breath, her lungs relieved when she took the first breath of fresh air in hours.

"Clarke!" Octavia scrambled up from where she sat, leaning against the shop. Clarke jolted. She almost forgot the youngest Blake had come outside. "What's going on?"

"I'm leaving," she said simply. She couldn't bring herself to look in Octavia's direction. She knew that if she did, her dam would break and she would flood with tears. _She couldn't._ She wouldn't.

"What?" Octavia surged forward, catching Clarke's hand. "No. You can't."

"I have to," she pleaded. "I can't do this anymore, O. It's just-"

"I know. You don't have to explain." Octavia stepped forward, her hand still holding Clarke's. She fell into silence, surprised by her words. Their eyes locked. "I get it. There's just… so much that has happened." She swallowed thickly, her face looking pained. "They all _died_ and it _hurts_. I didn't even know them well, but I just feel so cold and alone." She shook her head, banishing her thoughts. "But I get it – needing to leave. It's okay." She squeezed Clarke's hand reassuringly. "We'll be okay."

With those words, Clarke's dam broke.

Several tears fell from her eyes. She reached forward and pulled the youngest Blake into an embrace. Octavia wound her arms around her middle, almost like she was piecing her back together.

"Take care of each other," she croaked out.

"Without a doubt." She pulled back from the embrace, but kept a hand on her upper arm. "Be safe, Clarke." She pulled back her hand, leaving Clarke. "I hope you win. Out of everyone else, I hope it's you."

She smiled wetly. "Thanks, O. Good luck."

She turned away from her, turning to look at the empty roads and the silent city. Where would she go? What would she do?

 _It was up to her now._

She hid her emotions and steeled her nerves. She would figure it out. This was the only way.

Still, it hurt. She could feel her heart breaking over and over in her chest. She lost her friends. She was leaving the only remaining people she loved. She would be all alone in the arena for the first time.

She was leaving Bellamy. It hurt even more to think about the fact he never even said _goodbye._ He hadn't said a word to her when she said she was leaving. It hurt her so much more than she was willing to admit.

The first step she took, she felt something inside of her shift. _She could do this._ Determination and strength settled in her, propelling her forward.

"Clarke!" His voice was behind her suddenly, making her heart shoot to her throat. She spun around, just in time to see him run past Octavia, heading towards her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in for one final hug.

She went willingly, relishing in the warmth and safety his arms provided. She couldn't stay with him after everything, but he was still home to her. She didn't think anything could change that. She cared about him so much. He was like a breath of fresh air in these Games.

 _But she had to go._

She half expected Bellamy to ask her to stay. She half expected him to ask her to abandon her idea and stay with him. _Part of her wanted that._

Instead, when he pulled away from the hug, he handed her what was in his hands. A simple bottle of water was clutched in his hands and a blanket under his arm.

"Take these," he told her. "You… I…" He struggled for words. "Be safe, okay, Clarke?" She took the bottle of water from him, her eyes glossy.

"I will." She glanced up at him. "You, too, Bellamy. Be safe. Be sensible." She swallowed, a small smile on her lips. "You like to live life with your heart leading you. Promise me you'll use your head, too? The only way you can win is if you use both."

He sent her a look. "I don't plan on winning."

She smiled thinly. "I know. Neither do I."

With the new supplies in her hands, she took a step back. If she stayed any longer, she doubted she would be able to go. This was what she needed. _This was what she wanted._

"Goodbye, Bellamy." He swooped down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact. Her tears felt warm against her cheeks.

"Goodbye, Clarke." He pulled back, a vulnerable expression on his face. "And, uh… May we meet again." She wanted to cry with those words. He remembered how her district said goodbye to people. The only time she had uttered those words was when Wells had died and he urged her to say goodbye. He _remembered._

"May we meet again."

With a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes, she began walking towards the new world.

* * *

 **Ah, yes. Angst.**

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter (none). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **I hope Clarke's intentions were clear in this chapter. I know they were probably muddled at times, so I hope to explain it a little better here. She didn't leave because she doesn't trust Bellamy, nor because she resents him for saving her. The reason she left is a reflection from season 2; she left so she can grieve. She feels like she can't save anyone and she needs time to process this. She doesn't want to be around her alliance anymore because of how painful it would be.**

 **Like I said, I hope that makes sense.**

 **Spoilers for future chapters to come!: I was asked in a comment on a different site if this fic has a happy ending. I know it's dark right now (this is one of the lower points of the fic), so I thought I would say straight out that this fic DOES have a happy ending! Take that as you wish! :)**

 **Reviews are appreciated.**

 **Paw**


	41. Chapter 41: Of Broken Hearts

**This chapter was one that I took months to write, mainly because I couldn't figure out a way to write angst and grief well. It took a few tries, but I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 41: Of Broken Hearts**

* * *

 _9 days in the arena_

* * *

She woke up with the sun hitting her eyes. Clarke winced and lifted the blanket to cover her face, shielding herself from the rays. Her neck had a kink in it and her back was stiff. One of the first things she noticed the most was how _cold_ she was, despite the blanket being wrapped around her. Where was Bellamy? He usually had enough body heat to keep both of them warmed through the night.

It all came crashing back.

She bolted upright, her hand flying towards the hilt of her sword. She blinked several times, trying to calm her racing heart.

Bellamy and her weren't together anymore. All of her friend had been murdered. She left Bellamy and Octavia back at the shop, several hours ago. She was alone.

 _It was a familiar feeling._

She glanced around her surroundings, feeling memories sink back into place. After she left the shop, she ran into the woods and didn't stop for hours. She wasn't sure where she was, but she knew it was north of the city.

She slept between a shrub and a tree, hidden from the world as much as possible. She knew it was dangerous to sleep so out in the open, but she had been so exhausted and _so done_ that she didn't care. When she tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground after hours of running, she turned to the closest place to sleep.

Seeing the world blanketed in light again made her feel off. In the night, when Murphy died and she left the Blake siblings, it felt like a different world. It was terrifying waking up in the morning and to still be in that life.

She half hoped that, when she woke up, she would have found out that the whole day before had been a nightmare. She would wake up back in the camp, surrounded by her allies. Raven, Lincoln, Monty and Murphy were all alive still – all alive and happy.

Monty, Murphy and Raven would most likely be sitting together. Murphy and Raven would be bickering or trading jokes for hours, never growing tired at offending the other and making the group laugh. She tried to imagine how they would've acted if they kissed earlier – maybe they'd be like her and Bellamy. Then again, the two of them were already attached at the hip.

Lincoln would be sitting beside Octavia. He always seemed curious about her during training and the two of them grew close during their time in the arena. They were friends against all odds.

Monty was always more serious, and would probably be thinking up a plan or thinking of ways to help the group survive.

 _Gods, it hurt to even think their names._

She tried to ignore it. She tried to pretend that her heart wasn't absolutely shattered from leaving Bellamy and Octavia. She tried to think of something else – of anything else.

Fortunately, her mind was swarmed with thoughts. Unfortunately, they were all of pain.

She could see Murphy even when she closed her eyes. _She could see his body._ Dead. Alive. She could see his smile, the goofy look on his face when he told a lame joke. She could hear his snort of a laugh when Raven and him bantered back and forth. She felt his hands on her arms as he pulled her out of the way of danger, more than once.

The bloodbath.

On the staircase.

He was so willing to give his life for hers – for anyone. He jumped in front of an arrow for her. He pushed her out of the way of a spear. He took an arrow for Raven, only for her to die minutes later.

She could feel Raven, too. She could see how her eyes sparkled when she talked about her life back home, or how her face was twisted into determination as she worked on an impossible problem. She could see the desperation and the pleading in her eyes – moments before she died.

 _Seconds_ before Clarke left her.

She swallowed thickly, feeling more bile rising in her throat. She was going to get sick again.

Oh, gods. She left them all to die. _They all died._ She could've stopped it. _She could've stopped it._

Wells. Charlotte. Monty. Lincoln. Raven. Murphy.

They were all gone.

 _And somehow she was still alive._

Where was the justice in that? The one tribute sent to the Games to die would be the one that outlived her alliance. The one that was reaped on purpose was the one to survive.

If she had been better – if she tried harder – she could've saved them all. If she was on watch that one night, she could've saved Wells. If she had been trained more, she could've saved Monty and Lincoln. She was willing to go into the building instead of Raven, but she didn't.

Oh, gods.

She left them to die.

 _She left them to die._

Her heart broke further when she realized she never got to say goodbye to them while their faces were in the sky. When the anthem played the previous night – only hours ago, really – she'd been bent over Murphy, doing everything she could to keep him alive.

Clarke felt like she was destroyed in that moment; her grief eating away at her heart. It felt like there was a gaping hole in the middle of her stomach, like half of her was torn away. She felt like a shell of a person.

No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept drifting back to Bellamy and Octavia.

She missed him so much in that moment. She knew she was the only one to blame for being put in this situation. _She was the one to leave._

She felt stupid. If she just waited until her emotions had calmed down, maybe she wouldn't be sitting in the middle of the woods, all alone. Maybe she would still be in the shop with Bellamy and Octavia.

It broke her heart to think about, but she let herself anyways. She let herself imagine what this morning would've looked like if she hadn't left. She probably would've woken up in Bellamy's arms. He would've held her as she sobbed, he would have tried his best to comfort her as she came to terms with what happened.

She would've held him, too. He was telling the truth the night before; he cared about their allies as much as she did. She wasn't the only one who lost people she loved yesterday.

Bellamy had spent nights on watch with each of them before. While he usually did his shifts with her, she knew he didn't sleep often or well. She knew he stayed up late with Monty more than a few times. She knew that he valued Raven for her honesty and her humor. She knew he was amused by Murphy, despite their rocky start. She knew he liked Lincoln and trusted him. After all, he trusted him to watch out and protect Octavia.

He loved them, too. He lost them, too. _She wasn't the only one._

Octavia also loved and lost. Clarke could imagine her heart being broken when she didn't see Lincoln or Raven climbing down the pole after her.

 _Gods, that would've been an awful feeling._

Clarke didn't remember looking at Octavia when she got down from the roof. She didn't remember if Octavia asked about them, or if she waited at the base of the apartment, waiting for them to follow the group. _She didn't remember._

But she could imagine. Maybe her imagination was worse than a memory, in this case. At least if she remembered what happened, she wouldn't be able to torture herself with worse and worse scenarios.

Clarke imagined Octavia's heart breaking when she realized Lincoln wasn't coming, or when she realized Raven stayed behind. She imagined the heartbreak evident on her face. Gods, she didn't know her well, but she had seen the girl in pain before. _She knew that expression_. She knew what she looked like when she was hurting.

She could imagine Octavia's eyes clouding over with tears. She could imagine the pain she would be in when she realized she never had the chance to say goodbye to them either.

And she tried not to think about Bellamy – she really did.

 _It was easier said than done._

 _Because she did remember him._ She did remember his expression when they fell to the ground. She could recall the pain on his face when he pulled his sister away from the explosion. She seen the emptiness in his eyes when he realized his friends were dying and there was nothing he could do. She could see all of the hope and life draining from him as Raven spoke to him on the roof. She remembered the way his screams curdled her blood after Murphy died.

Clarke sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm.

She remembered the hurt and betrayal in his eyes when she turned on him. _Gods, she did betray him._ She accused him of letting their friends die.

 _"_ _You let her, Bellamy._ You _. If you would have said no, she wouldn't have gone."_

 _"_ _You can't blame me for what happened. That was Raven's choice. She knew what she had to do. She wasn't looking for my permission."_ Gods, she could still hear the pain in his voice. She could see the unshed tears in his eyes.

 _"_ _Yet, you still gave it! You let Raven make her choice."_ Her response made her feel sick. She could feel her stomach clenching and rolling. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the nausea at bay.

Raven died – it was true. It destroyed Clarke's heart, but it also hurt Bellamy. He wasn't the reason she was dead. Raven sacrificed herself – she did what she did, knowing what would happen. It wasn't up to Bellamy. No matter what he said on the roof, Raven would still be dead.

Clarke didn't believe in destinies or fate or any of that shit. She didn't believe that things happened for a reason – not really, anyways, and especially not in this case. _She believed that Raven knew what she was doing._ Bellamy was right – she wasn't asking permission.

Raven was stubborn and she was brilliant. She must've run through that situation a dozen times, looking for ways for everyone to live. Raven was selfless and so giving – she probably didn't think twice about herself.

Gods, it was so like her, to give up herself so others could survive. Clarke only wished that she didn't have to do that. Clarke wished she would've had more time to convince her otherwise.

But Clarke knew Raven. She doubted she would have let anyone change her mind. From the moment Clarke met her, she knew who she was; fiery, stubborn, and selfless. It broke her heart to know those traits got her killed.

 _And she blamed Bellamy for it._

With a sinking stomach, she also realized that she blamed Bellamy for saving her.

 _"_ _You knew what I wanted, and you took it away from me! You're such a hypocrite, you know? You're so willing to die for Octavia – you're willing to do anything to protect her – but you make me seem unreasonable for doing the same with my friends!"_

She remembered the hurt in his eyes. She felt sick with herself. _Never_ before in her life did she fall apart so terribly. She never felt so guilty.

 _"_ _I was willing to die for them. I didn't want anyone sacrificing themselves for me, don't you get it? My choice. That's what I wanted. And you took that away from me. You knew what I wanted, and you went against it. How am I supposed to trust you, huh? Tell me how, because I really don't know."_

As Clarke remembered her words, she broke down again. A new wave of grief and regret hit her, sending her spiralling into sobs. She bit her lip to keep the noise down. If she attracted the attention of any tributes, she wouldn't be able to fight them off.

After she told him that she didn't know if she could trust him, he looked broken. Haunted. Betrayed. Gods, it looked like she had slapped him across the face with those words. It looked like he lost everything he held dear.

It broke her heart to remember. _His hallow eyes. The way his voice trembled as he repeated her words back._

It was a lie. In the moment, as she told him she didn't know if she could trust him anymore, she believed those words. She was angry at the Capitol for putting everyone in this position. She was hurt that she let her friends die. _She took it out on him._

She trusted him with her life. At first, she didn't trust him – back when they were still training, back when they still had a sliver of innocence left. But as soon as she let herself start trusting him, she couldn't stop. Now, she trusted him more than anyone in her life.

She also remembered the way the blood drained from his face when she told him they didn't really know each other. _She knew him._ She knew his favourite colour and she knew his greatest fears. She knew what made him weep and she knew what made his heart freeze. She knew how he liked his eggs and how he took his tea. She knew how he acted when he was seconds away from death, when he had no hope left in his soul, when he had gone days without food and water, when they were forced to run for their lives.

She knew him. _And now he was gone._ Well, _she_ was gone.

She regretted her decision. She regretted all of the hurt she caused him. She regretted saying that she didn't trust him, and that she didn't know him, and that he let their friends die.

Clarke felt like a monster.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky and her side burned from a stitch. She was exhausted; she could barely breathe and she wasn't even running.

Maybe it was due to the fact that she had cried until it hurt. Maybe it was due to the fact she could feel bruises all along her body. Maybe it was because she had fought and run and dodged and jumped and punched and broke the day before.

Clarke stumbled a few steps, catching herself roughly on the tree. She winced as the bark roughly scraped against the skin on her forearm, drawing tiny droplets of blood. She pulled back from the tree and let her legs collapse, finally falling to the ground.

She leaned backwards to rest against the tree, her arm cradled against her chest. She tilted her face towards the sky and sucked in a deep breath.

She was too exhausted and dehydrated to cry, even though she wanted to. _She really wanted to._ She wanted to keep crying and sobbing for her friends. She wanted to wallow in her regrets and her grief over her fallout with Bellamy.

Clarke couldn't. She didn't have time to. Everything in the arena was about running and surviving. If she didn't stay two steps ahead of the other tributes, she was going to die.

She wanted to get off the ground, she really did. She wanted to pull herself to her feet and keep walking, keep surviving. She wanted to survive – she wanted to live for her friends. _Bellamy was right with that, too._ They sacrificed themselves so they could live. It made her chest fill with pain, but she knew it was true.

If she gave up, all of their sacrifices would've been for nothing.

So, really, she did want to keep walking. She knew she couldn't rest against the tree – she was out in the open.

But she couldn't get up. It felt like her legs could barely take another step. The muscles and bones felt like they had vanished, being replaced with jelly. She doubted she could continue walking. Her side hurt, her lungs were burning, her lips were cracked.

She could take a rest. Just for a few minutes, anyways.

 _But resting meant having time to think._ Maybe that was a good thing. This was the first day of being alone in the arena. This was one of the first moments she had to herself in weeks. She had been pushing all of her feelings away over the last few weeks, all in the sake of survival.

 _She found out her mother killed her father –_ forget about it, no time to be angry.

 _She had to kill Atom –_ don't think about it, there wasn't enough time to forgive herself.

 _Wells was murdered –_ don't mourn him, there wasn't enough time to heal.

 _Charlotte betrayed them._

 _She had more blood on her hands than she ever did as a medic._

 _She killed people._

 _She left people to die._

 _She lost friends._

 _Everything that she thought she knew about her life had gone up in flames._

Ever since she stepped foot in the arena, things were happening to fast for her to really process. Now, with some time to herself, at least she could think.

She thought of Wells. How his smile could light up a room. How he always stayed up late with her, helping her study for exams. She remembered how he always used to cook dinner for the two of them, whenever their parents were at meetings. She remembered walking around their district together, growing up together, being children together.

She knew him before they could crawl. She had seen him almost every day for majority of her life. She trusted him with her biggest secrets and her biggest fears.

She thought about how she believed she lost him. How she thought he betrayed her. _She thought about how she was wrong._

She thought about how he tried so hard to protect her. She could remember the determination on his face when he volunteered for the Games. She remembered the way he always stood up for her, even when she didn't want it.

She thought about his strength and all his love. He was so loyal and patient and fair. Gods, he deserved better.

She missed him. He was her best friend and he died protecting the alliance. He was betrayed by one of their own, murdered as he tried to help Charlotte. He didn't deserve to die because of that. He was so trusting and so loyal; she doubted that he ever imagined the young girl turning on them like that.

Clarke thought of her mother next. She'd been pushing off thinking of Abby for days now. She mostly succeeded. At least when she was around others and fighting for her survival, she didn't really have time to think about her.

Now, without anyone to distract her, and without energy to keep fighting and walking, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

 _Abby betrayed her._ Her mother betrayed her. Not only that, but she also betrayed her father – _she betrayed her own husband._

She got him murdered and her locked up. By extension of that, she got her own daughter sent to the Games to be executed.

 _And for what?_ For power? Because she was scared? Because she didn't think the government would be too harsh on them? If anything, Abby wasn't stupid. She had to have known the consequences.

She must not have cared, then. She told Jaha even though she knew it would result in her only family dying. _She just didn't care._

It hurt. _It really hurt_. She had been hating Wells for close to a year because of what he did to destroy her family and her life. Really, she should've been hating her mother. She _did_ hate her mother.

Clarke pressed her fingers tightly to her forehead, begging the thoughts to stop. She couldn't do this. She couldn't handle the pain that came with thinking of losing Wells. She couldn't handle the anger and the anguish that came with thinking of how her mother betrayed her.

So, she did the only thing she knew would stop the thoughts.

Clarke pushed off the ground and continued to walk.

* * *

Clarke wrapped the blanket around her shoulders tightly. As always, the night brought a chill. This time, she couldn't curl into Bellamy's side to keep warm. She couldn't talk with her alliance to distract herself. She couldn't pretend that she wasn't cold – there was nobody to pretend to.

So, she held onto the edges of the blanket and pulled it tight against her body. The flat edge of her sword was pressed against her stomach under the blanket, close enough that she could reach for it if she needed.

While last night was technically her first night alone, she had been so exhausted that she had passed out without much thought. Now, her thoughts wouldn't let her rest.

She was alone. She would have to sleep without someone on watch tonight. Part of her was tempted to stay awake, but she knew she needed rest. Her body was aching. Her mind was swimming. Her eyes hurt.

Even though she knew there hadn't been a canon that day, she still waited for the anthem to play. In a strange way, it was reassuring that Bellamy was still alive. Not seeing his face in the sky meant that he was still out there. _That_ gave her hope and made her heart feel lighter.

Clarke rested her head against the bark of the tree she leaned against, closing her eyes to wait for the anthem. She couldn't bare to keep them open another seconds. There had been a dull pain behind them ever since she woke up, which had quickly blossomed to a jabbing pain through her head. She doubted she had ever been this tired before.

As she rested, she thought of Bellamy.

She thought about his courage and his strength. She thought about how he loved with his whole heart and always gave everything in him. She thought about how he tried his best and always gave things his all.

He was dedicated to his sister and giving her the best life possible. He was a good man. _Gods, was he ever good._

Bellamy was the first person that taught her how to fight. Back then, he was only a stranger. He didn't have to help her. He didn't have to give her tips on how to hold a sword and how to defend herself. After all, she could have very well turned around and killed him and his sister in the arena.

Bellamy was the first person to stand up for her against tributes that wanted to harm her. The first night they were on the roof together, he fought for her and protected her against the Careers. He risked himself to do so. He knew that defending her would put him on the bad side of the Careers, but he did it anyways. He did it because he knew it was the right thing to do. He did it because he couldn't stand by while someone got hurt.

He was the first person to make her laugh in gods only knew how long. He made her feel safe and free. And, on the roof, he made her feel like she could be herself. She could open up to him and tell him anything.

 _And she did._

She trusted him with her life and with her biggest secrets. All of the burdens she carried around were also shouldered by him, that one night on the roof. He promised her that she wouldn't have to be alone again – that she wouldn't have to carry all the guilt and the burden alone. He risked his own life, just so she could tell _someone_ the truth about the Capitol. He thrust himself into a world of conspiracy and distrust.

He jumped into the water after her, when the mutts dragged her to the bottom of the pond. As her lungs burned and her vision dimmed, her swam to her, risking his own life to protect her. He was the only reason she lived after that. By him drawing the mutts away with his own blood, he managed to save her. He didn't hesitate that day to jump in after her. Even when it was looking bleak and she was convinced she was going to die, he didn't abandon her. He fought for her.

He was the one to hold her as she mourned Wells. He was the one to comfort her when it felt like she was falling apart. He supported her, even when she never realized it. _He was there._ Ready to help her, ready to talk to her.

She trusted him. She cared for him. She wanted to spend time with him – so much more time than what they were given. She wanted him to be safe – she wanted him to live.

She understood him on so many levels; as a human, as a fighter, and for always sacrificing himself for his people – whoever that might have been. He made her laugh in her darkest days. He taught her how to fight. _He taught her how to live._

She missed him so much. She loved him and she missed him.

Clarke's eyes flew open at that. _Love?_

Did she love him? It wasn't a far stretch. She cared about him so much that it felt like her heart was going to burst. She wanted to spend every moment of her life with him. And, if she could pick, she would pick to live in an alternate reality, with him at her side.

Maybe she didn't love him – not yet, at least. She had only known him for two weeks. One thing was for certain. _She was falling in love with him._

Maybe it was because they were soul mates – although she laughed at this thought, since she never believed in them. Though, Bellamy Blake was the closest person she had to a soul mate. Even after spending such a short amount of time together, she felt like they had known each other forever.

Maybe it was because they both knew they both couldn't live past the end of the Games. She thought that being near death made falling in love with him happen so much faster. She was aware there was a time limit and she didn't want to waste a second.

Maybe it was because he was a good person. Maybe it was because he cared about her and she cared about him. They were friends. They trusted each other. They fought for each other and chose each other – something she wanted to do over and over.

 _Maybe she did love him._

And, in that moment, she was struck with a thought so strongly that it made her want to get sick.

 _She understood._

She understood why he did it – why he pulled her away from Raven, when he pulled her down the side of the building. She understood why he saved her life, even if she was begging him to let her stay with Raven. She understood why he saved her.

 _She would've done the same thing for him._

If their roles were reversed and he refused to let go of the door, she would've used every ounce of her strength to drag him off the roof. Her mind echoed his words from the previous day; she would rather have him hate her than him be dead.

And, really, him saving her was something he always did. If there was one thing she knew about Bellamy, it was the fact that he always protected his people. It struck her that _she_ was one of his people now, just like he was one of hers.

He had jumped into the pond that day and swam to the bottom, risking his life for hers. He stayed with her until her vision was spotted with black, and then a little after that. He pulled her from the bottom of the pond, a wide gash across his palm. _He risked his life that day to save her._

And, again, when they were attempting to get supplies from the Cornucopia. When the arrows that exploded and sent shock waves were shot at them, he was the one to land on her and pull her to the ground. He shielded her with his own body. _He risked his life that day to save her, too._

And she couldn't forget one of the first days in the arena – the day Wells was murdered and the Careers attacked them. He stood outside the cave, willing to sacrifice himself for the rest of the alliance to get to safety. He had told her to run and to protect the rest of the group. _He risked his life that day to save all of them._

Clarke never regretted something so much in her life. She wished that she never would've left Bellamy and Octavia. She wished that she would've stayed with him. She wished that she was never angry with him, or directed her anger towards him.

Her heart ached. _Nothing_ was Bellamy's fault. Really, she couldn't even blame the Careers that murdered all of her friends. This was all the Capitol. All of the tributes were just pieces in their games, moved and manipulated by the higher powers.

She was doing exactly what they wanted. They wanted a good show. They wanted to see teenagers betray others, and kill others, and hurt others. They wanted to see relationships break apart. They wanted to see disaster and horrors.

When the anthem came into the sky, she couldn't bring herself to watch it.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter. If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Quick note: I don't know if I said it specifically in the chapter, but Murphy's face is the only one in the sky this night, but Clarke can't bring herself to watch. Monty, Lincoln, Raven, and Roan all died on day 8 and this chapter takes place on day 9. Clarke missed seeing their faces in the sky when she was taking care of Murphy while he was dying. I hope this makes sense. Timelines can get a bit muddy, so please ask me if you're confused about anything!**

 **Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated!**


	42. Chapter 42: Time

**HAPPY APRIL! Not only is The 100 season 6 airing this month, but** ** _also,_** **this fic is ending this month! That's right – only 10 more chapters to go after this one, which means this should wrap up on the 23rd or the 25th of this month.**

 **We're finally leaving angst-central (but there still will be some angst in the next few chapters – I never make things easy).**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 42: Time**

* * *

 _10 days in the arena_

* * *

The next day, Clarke decided to start walking east. There wasn't a reason to it, other than the fact that it was a direction to head in. She had nowhere to go. She didn't have a goal or a plan, other than to keep walking.

She knew she should've been looking for shelter. She needed to find somewhere where she could lay low and figure things out. It had been a full day and a half since she heard a canon, which meant there were still just as many tributes out there as before.

Ontari, Cage, and Luna were still out there – three out of the four Careers. She knew Murphy's district partner – Echo – was still alive. She also knew the District 10 male was still alive. Then, Bellamy and Octavia and herself.

There were eight tributes total still alive. It was day ten. Clarke knew that the Games didn't usually last for much longer. Back when they first started, some of those Games lasted for weeks – sometimes longer than a month.

They were boring though – or they were, according to sponsors.

Now, the Games were almost guaranteed to last less than twenty days. If things were starting to get boring, the Gamemakers would speed things up. They would release mutts, cause natural disasters, or herd tributes together. Whatever happened, they always interfered and ended the Games early.

She knew that would be coming soon. Day seven was full of action – between her and Bellamy getting attacked at the Cornucopia and then spending the day inside the abandoned shop – as had day eight, with the death of majority of her alliance, but she knew that the single day of peace wouldn't go over well with sponsors.

She knew they were nearing the end of the Games. It was day ten, and she had guessed that the Games would only go until day fifteen at this point. That was five full days, plus the rest of the day today. _Five and a half days to live._

It was amazing that she had lived this long. Clarke half expected that a mutt would kill her during the bloodbath. Or maybe her platform would have exploded and the Capitol would've told everyone that she dropped something (that just so happened to be invisible to everyone else) to trigger the sensors.

The more she thought of it, the more she was amazed. She knew she never really had a chance at surviving – not really, anyways. Sure, she pretended sometimes, because lying to herself was easier than facing reality, but she knew the truth deep down.

She was sent here to die.

 _So, why was she still alive?_

The simple answer was because they wanted to torture her first. What better way to kill someone than to make them suffer first? They wanted to see her break and fall apart and become the monster she swore to never become. They wanted to see her betray her friends. They wanted to see her betray her morals. They wanted to see blood on her hands.

They wanted her to hurt. They wanted to watch as she lost everyone she swore to protect. They wanted to watch as all her friends died, and as she lost the remaining two because of her stupidity. They wanted to see her sleep deprived and starving. They wanted to see her thirsty and dying.

Of course, they wouldn't give her a simple death.

Maybe the worst thing of all was the fact the longer she was alive, the stronger the sliver of hope grew inside of her. _Maybe she will survive. Maybe she wasn't just sent here to die._

It was worst of all because she knew it wasn't true. She bet the Capitol _wanted_ to lure her into a false sense of security – they wanted to give her false hope. What was the fun in watching someone fight for survival if they didn't truly believe it was possible?

No. They wanted to see her hope. And then they wanted to take that away from her.

Well, she hated to admit it, but it was working. She couldn't squish the tiny sliver of hope in her chest, no matter what she did.

She was glad the day had been uneventful. Even though she tried to sleep, it was nearly impossible. She was missing Bellamy. She was mourning her friends. She felt lost and broken. Sleep was the last thing on her mind.

She doubted she would be able to fight if she bumped into another tribute.

For what felt like the hundredth time, she wished Bellamy was with her. She wished that she wasn't such an idiot. She hoped he was okay.

She wondered where he was. Did he stay in the city? She couldn't bare to look at the damn city; too many things had happened there. All of her remaining friends were murdered, and then she turned on her only two left. It felt like the city was cursed.

Then, she froze.

Her heart dropped to her stomach and she could've sworn that her blood froze in her veins.

 _She heard something._

Clarke held her breath and strained her ears as she listened for the noise again. Not even a second later, she heard another branch break.

 _Someone was walking near her._

She was moving before she could process what was happening. Clarke drew her sword and crouched low, getting into the defensive position Bellamy taught her a lifetime ago.

Then, she seen her. Clarke caught a glimpse of rusted brown hair, just beyond the bush in front of her. She only knew one tribute with that colour of hair and _gods she hoped she was wrong._ She inched forward, desperate to keep her in her line of sight.

It was just Clarke's luck that her foot caught a dead branch on the ground. The snap was just as loud as the other tribute's was when she was walking. The air got caught in Clarke's lungs and her heart froze when she realized she gave her position away.

The other tribute spun around, her sword raised and her knees bent. Seeing her face made all doubts in Clarke's mind disappear.

 _Luna._

The District 4 tribute stood a few feet away from her, ready to attack. Her eyes were wide and her face smeared with blood. Just as Bellamy taught her, she scanned the Career for any weaknesses.

 _Good_. She was heavily favoring her right leg. While her facial expression was mostly one of stone, she could see that her lips were pulled taunt and her jaw was locked. Those were two classic signs of being in pain.

She injured her left leg, most likely. Clarke could use that to her advantage when they started fighting.

 _She wasn't dying. Not today._

But Luna didn't move. Clarke didn't lunge at her – too afraid to make the first move. She knew the other girl was more experienced with combat. She was probably waiting for Clarke to lunge first, so she could catch her off guard.

What _really_ caught Clarke off guard was when Luna's shoulders slumped forward and her sword went clattering to the ground. Her head drooped forward slightly, sending her curls to cover her face.

Clarke was stunned into silence. She straightened herself slightly, her own sword coming to rest along her side. _Was this a trap?_ It had to be a trap, right? She was letting her guard down to trick Clarke into letting her guard down. It would be an easier kill.

 _Right?_

Clarke was sure she was right, but all that confidence disappeared as soon as Luna dropped to the ground. In that moment, everything else vanished from her mind.

They weren't tributes anymore. They didn't have a history. She wasn't a Career that had been targeting Clarke for the last two weeks. She wasn't the person partially responsible for killing her friends.

 _No._

In that moment, she was just another girl who was clearly hurt. And, in that moment, Clarke felt like she was the only person that could save her.

That was all that mattered. They were just two humans – not tributes. She needed help and Clarke could give that.

Without a question, Clarke rushed forward, her own sword falling to the ground beside Luna's. She fell to her knees in front of her, her hands shooting forward to support Luna's trembling upper body.

The Career collapsed completely as soon as Clarke was beside her. With a grunt, Clarke shifted her so she was propped up against a tree, freeing both of her hands. As she moved her, she scanned the surrounding forest. She knew that wherever one Career went, the pack was sure to follow.

"I'm alone." Luna's voice was raspy, like she hadn't talked in days. Clarke must've really been on edge because she jumped as soon as she spoke. "I promise."

"I don't know you," Clarke replied, her voice tight. She didn't peel her eyes away from their surroundings. "Your promises aren't worth much to me."

Luna let out a dry chuckle. "You sound like a true Career."

"Well, I'm not one." Clarke glanced back to Luna, her eyes narrowed. "Why would you be alone?"

"I left," she muttered, her lips barely moving. Clarke was shocked to notice just how pale her lips looked. Even her skin looked paper thin. She was sick – really sick. "I had to leave the pack. Wasn't right."

As Luna spoke, Clarke was already examining her body. If Luna was telling the truth, then nobody should be around to attack them while her defenses were down. And if she was lying, then she wouldn't be able to fight them all off anyway.

She didn't see any injuries along her arms or abdomen. When Clarke reached her upper leg, she felt like she was going to get sick. There was a deep slash, which would've been bad on its own. To make it worse, it was clearly infected.

She reached forward and pressed the back of her hand against Luna's forehead. She was burning up already.

She pulled back and chewed on her lip. This wasn't good. Whatever happened to her leg was a terrible injury already, but it had gone untreated for too long. It was infected. Clarke didn't doubt that it already spread to her blood. While she didn't have any proof, she had a hunch. This wasn't like Octavia's wound or Murphy's first injury – both of which were less infected compared to this.

If it was as bad as she thought it was, Luna wouldn't survive much longer. If it had already spread to her blood, her body systems would already be starting to shut down.

Luna caught her eye. She smiled weakly. "It's bad. I know."

"You'll be fine." The words were out of Clarke's mouth before she could stop them. Somehow, lying had become second nature in the arena. "What happened?" The other girl glanced at her, her eyes narrowed. Clarke frowned. "I need to know so I know what might be wrong. I can treat it better that way."

She glanced away, her scowl softening. After a moment, she spoke again. "It's a long story."

Clarke leaned back, pulling away from Luna. "It's not like I have somewhere to be."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Lover boy isn't waiting for you somewhere, then?"

Clarke felt stupid for admitting as much as she did. _Shit._ She should've been more careful with what she said. Not only was it putting herself in danger, but it was also putting Bellamy and Octavia in danger.

In some sick way, this was probably a trap. Luna probably got injured and came to distract Clarke enough and gather information. It was probably part of a bigger plot for the Careers to extract their stupid revenge on the three of them.

 _She wasn't going to fall into their trap._

Clarke pulled away from Luna completely and moved to stand up, intending to walk away and leave Luna on the ground. The way the wound was looking, Luna wouldn't be able to get up as quickly as her or follow. She could put a good amount of space between the two of them. And, really, if it came down to it, Clarke was confident that she would be able to take Luna in a fight and win if she was injured.

Before she could stand up, Luna's hand shot out and clamped on her wrist. Clarke glared and whipped her arm away from her hand. Unlike Ontari, Luna's grasp was weak.

"I'm sorry." Luna grimaced as she tried to adjust how she was sitting. "Blake. His name is Blake."

"Bellamy," she corrected automatically. Clarke's movements faltered. "He's waiting for me. I'm just out to get food." She was lying through her teeth, but she hoped Luna would fall for it. She gave her a weary look. "He'll know something's happened to me if I don't come back."

Luna grimaced and glanced at her. "I'm not going to hurt you." As if to prove her point, she nudged her sword away from her with her one good leg. The movement of her body made her wince.

Clarke appreciated the effort, but the sword barely moved an inch. She reached forward and grabbed both of their swords, bringing them back to her side. If Luna was as injured as she was acting, it would be out of her reach.

"Do you have any other weapons?" she asked, scanning her body. She had a single backpack, now squished against the tree, but nothing else. She didn't even have a holster around her waist for the sword.

"No." She pressed her lips together. "Well, yes. I have a knife. It's in my bag. Dull as hell." She snorted. "I doubt it'll be of any use to either of us."

Clarke didn't take her word for it. Luna managed to slip her bag off and toss it to her outstretched hand. To her surprise, Luna was telling the truth. Only a single knife, wrapped in Luna's discarded jacket, was in the backpack and the blade was useless. She didn't want to know what the knife was used for to make it so dull.

What also surprised Clarke was the amount of supplies she had in her bag. There were a few bottles of water and packages of food, which only reminded her of how hungry and thirsty she really was. She also had several rolls of gauze, two bottles of ointment of sorts, and several large bandages.

"I left." Clarke glanced away from the supplies in the bag when Luna spoke. "The Career pack. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't stand them. I had to go."

"You left the Career pack?" she clarified. She nodded. Clarke pursed her lips. _That_ was unexpected.

Then again, she didn't see Luna with the others when they attacked the apartment the other day. She remembered seeing her during their confrontation at the cave, but that was it – and that was almost a week ago, already.

Was she telling the truth? It was hard to say. Saying that there wasn't much trust between the two of them would be the understatement of the year.

"What day is it?" Luna asked.

"Day ten."

The muscles in her jaw twitched. "I think I left on day six?" She nodded. "Yeah. The day after we attacked you guys."

Clarke's body stiffened at that. It wasn't like she needed the reminder, but her bringing up the attack made a wave of hurt and resentment hit her.

"Right."

Her gaze turned cold and calculating as she scanned the other girl. _She attacked them_. She was part of the reason why Charlotte was dead. She was the reason they had to abandon the cave.

"I'm sorry," she said again, repeating her words from earlier. "I… I'm sorry."

"Right. I'm sure you are." Clarke zipped the backpack closed more harshly than needed. "I think we're done here."

"No." Luna shifted forward, reaching for Clarke's wrist again. She was faster and dodged her attempts, glowering at her in the process. "Please. Just…" Her hand dropped to her side. "I'm really sorry for everything my alliance did to yours. _Truly._ "

She was stunned by the sincerity she held in her voice. She didn't think a Career could ever sound so sincere and so human.

In that moment, she was struck by something. _Bellamy was a Career, too._ He was human. He was sincere and told the truth and was loyal. He was good. Octavia was, too.

 _Oh gods,_ she was turning into someone she didn't want to be. She didn't want to assume the worst in people. She didn't want to assume everyone was lying and trying to kill her.

When she got to the Games, she told herself that she was going to be fair to everyone. She told herself that she wouldn't let titles, like Career, influence her.

Yet, here she was. She was assuming the worst, just because she came from a Career district. She was slapping Luna with stereotypes; brutal, liar, backstabber, killer.

 _Did she deserve those titles?_ Maybe. Maybe not.

That was the thing; Clarke didn't know the girl in front of her. She'd seen her a few times before they went into the arena, and even less after that. They'd never spoke directly. She'd never had a conversation with her to figure out who she truly was.

All Luna was to Clarke was a face amongst the Careers. She stood behind Ontari as she targeted her those days in training. She stood beside the Careers as they attacked the cave. She stood with their pack during training and interviews and assessments.

 _But she didn't know her._

In fact, Luna had always been an unknown to Clarke. She was never sinister looking and never looked like she was imagining ways to stab someone like the other Careers did, but she was always there.

Clarke remembered looking at Luna during training. She remembered how uncomfortable she looked as Cage and Ontari argued about something; she remembered how she looked like she wanted to be anywhere except beside them.

She remembered her interview, too. It was striking. Luna was still strong and confident like the other Careers, but she wasn't cold like Ontari or cocky like Cage. She didn't talk about how she loved fighting, she didn't brag about the skills she had from all her training.

She spoke about her family and her friends; how she wanted to get back to them, how she was willing to do anything to return home. She spoke about her hobbies, like fishing and swimming.

 _Clarke didn't know Luna._ But was it okay to assume the worst in people? _Should_ she be assuming the worst in people?

Or was that just something the Capitol wanted? She knew they wanted to see her downfall. She knew they wanted to see her lose herself, piece by piece.

Who was she before the Games? Who was she before her father was assassinated?

She didn't know. She couldn't remember who she was.

She did hope she was kind, though. She hoped that she didn't assume the worst in people. She hoped that she looked at people with hope. She hoped that she looked at people and imagined the ways that they were good.

She _wanted_ to be like that, anyway. She wanted to look at people and imagine different ways that they were good. She wanted to look at people and assume they were just like her – just another teenager trying to survive and get back home.

Of course, if she assumed wrong, she would die. If she assumed that Luna was a good person and was wrong, that would be her last wrong decision. But, if she assumed that Luna was a terrible person and was wrong, then the Capitol would be winning.

That would be another piece of her – gone.

 _She didn't want to see the Capitol win._

"Let's not talk about it," Clarke said, referring to all the mistakes they both made during the arena. "I don't think we'll have enough time to unpack all of that."

Luna's laugh was weak. "You're right. I'm a disaster." She chewed on her lip. "You're the medic, right? The medic of your alliance?"

She was worried why Luna was asking. Was she trying to get insider information? _She tried to push those thoughts away._

"I am."

"Can you help me?" She gestured to her leg. "I know we don't know each other. I know you don't owe me anything. But I thought I would ask, at least. Try."

Clarke studied Luna's face. She hadn't been this close to her before. She always looked so old and so determined before, but she looked different now. It was a nice reminder that they were close in age. She was just 17-years-old. They were both just teenagers.

"Of course."

Clarke opened Luna's bag again and took out the medical supplies from there. If she wanted to stay true to herself – if she didn't want to let the Capitol win – she was going to have to take risks.

And, if she was wrong about Luna, she would deal with the consequences. She was going to die anyways. She might as well die and let the Capitol lose.

She examined Luna's leg. She tried to hide her grimaces, but she doubted she did a good job. The cut was deep, but it managed to miss the important veins and arteries, only by inches in some places. She would have to clean it really well – wherever Luna hid out over the last four days must've been wet and muddy.

Worst of all was how infected it was. Luna had two bottles of antibiotic cream, but she doubted it would be enough. Judging based on the label attached to the bottle, whatever the cream was, it was similar to the stuff the sponsors sent Octavia and Murphy at the cave.

She knew what the cream could do. She also knew that Luna's leg was too far gone. The infection wasn't just limited to the area of the wound anymore. While she didn't have the equipment to make sure of that, she knew something was wrong by the way she was burning up and the way her pulse was racing. That, plus she was weak and lethargic.

It wasn't good.

Clarke even told her as much. All Luna could say in response was, "please, just try."

It seemed like she was a fighter and that she wasn't giving up easily. _Clarke understood that_.

So, she tried. As she worked, Luna tried to hide the fact she was in pain. Her fists were tightened at her sides and her jaw was locked, but she didn't make a sound. Clarke knew it was bad; every time she touched the wound, she winced.

After a few minutes of silence, the other girl turned to her. "I know you told me not to talk about it, but I'm sorry." She squeezed her eyes shut. "For everything that happened to you here. I know the Career pack was the cause of a lot of that pain."

Clarke didn't say anything. There wasn't much to be said.

"I regret it all, you know. _Everything._ All of the hostility before we even got to the arena." She sucked in a sharp breath as Clarke pressed a little harder on her leg. "We didn't even know each other, but we hated each other. How messed up is that?"

"That's the way things go," Clarke responded. "We're told to hate each other. We're raised to hate each other."

She knew she should've been careful with what she was saying – she didn't want to offend the Capitol, nor Luna – but she didn't care in that moment. She almost wished the Capitol were listening.

"I was raised to think the Games was where I could find pride and glory. I was raised to channel my anger into something else. I was taught that anger was good – that fighting was good." She sounded angry as she spoke and Clarke cast a quick glance at her. She was still withering in pain. "All of that hate… all of that anger…" She shook her head. "It's shit. It's all shit.

"I was raised to think that the only way I could live a good life was by going to the Games and winning. I trained my whole life to be here. I sacrificed my family so I could be better – so I could be the best.

"It was a lie. The Games are a lie. All we do is fight and kill and hate. It's terrible. It's not right."

Clarke agreed with what she said, but she didn't dare speak her mind.

"I was chosen to come to the arena and I was so happy. I knew I would be _finally_ doing something in my life – something that I trained for, something that I wanted. And then, I got here, and I met the other Careers." She grimaced. "I was wrong."

"About what?"

"Everything. The Games shouldn't be about glory. It's about survival. I shouldn't have been working towards this – I shouldn't have ignored everything else in my life for this. I could've found glory in other things. I could've found happiness in other things. _Real_ happiness."

Clarke chewed on her lip. "You said you changed your mind when you met the other Careers?" She nodded. "What about them made you change your mind?"

"Ontari is brutal. She doesn't care about anyone other than herself. She doesn't care about anything other than winning." She snorted. "A perfect Career, really. That's what everyone wanted me to be as I grew up. That's who I wanted to be." She paused. "I don't want to be like her – not anymore. What she did – things without remorse – that made me want to get sick. I don't want to be like that. I want to be _against_ that.

"And then there's the Blakes." Just hearing her talk about them sucked the air out of Clarke's lungs. She tried not to show how much it affected her. " _That's_ who I want to be. They're not the perfect Careers. In fact, if they acted how they do now at their academy, I'm sure they never would've been sent to the Games. They're too compassionate and kind." Clarke couldn't stop smiling at that.

" _I want to be like that._ Just seeing them like that proved to me _I_ could be like that. I told myself that I had to be brutal and a killer because that was how I was raised – that was all I knew. But they were raised like that too, but that didn't define them. They proved me wrong. If they could be good people, then I could be too.

"They're strong and they're brave. They're talented at what they do. They're some of the top contenders for becoming the Victor, but they aren't monsters. They showed me I don't have to be a monster to win, either." She smiled. "You should be proud of them. They're showing all the other Careers – all the kids back home – that they don't have to be monsters either. They're changing the game."

"I'm sure other Careers have been good people before them," Clarke insisted. The idea that Bellamy and Octavia were the first Careers to show compassion and not join the Career pack was too unbelievable.

"They never would've been selected for the Games. The academy never would've allowed it." Luna gasped as Clarke lifted her leg to get the bandage under it. "They're showing every Career that it's okay to be compassionate, that it's okay to have emotions, that it's okay not to want to be the killer they were raised to be."

Clarke could barely keep the tears out of her eyes. She never thought of how revolutionary they were. She never knew that they were changing the Games – that they were impacting the future generations.

She was so proud of him. It made her heart want to burst.

"Just seeing them breaking that barrier showed me that I didn't have to be what I was trained to be. I could be strong and I could be compassionate. I could win, but I didn't have to do it by betraying and killing everyone around me." Luna shifted uneasily as Clarke worked on bandaging her leg.

"Ontari didn't believe that. She hates them because of it. Cage, too. The Blakes are going against everything we were told – everything we were taught. They hate them because of their humanity. I'm sure a lot of people hate them for what they're teaching all those young Career kids. Nobody will follow their mindless commands now, not when they know there's a better way.

"So, I left. I want to be true to myself. I don't want to keep hurting people. I don't want to stand by as Ontari and Cage keep hunting people – especially not the Blakes."

"I never knew," Clarke admitted, her voice thick with emotion. She never knew Bellamy and Octavia were changing things so much. She didn't know they were so different than what they were taught to be and what they were expected to be.

Things made sense after hearing that. She understood why Ontari hated them. She understood why they were targeted by them. It was because they were different, and being different was dangerous.

"Well, now you do."

"I wish I knew. I wish I could tell him how proud I am of him."

"You can tell him tonight," she promised her. Clarke's heart sunk. "I won't keep you here forever. Just long enough to bandage me up."

The words were tumbling from her mouth before she could think about it. "I lied." She met Luna's eyes. "Bellamy and I… We're not together anymore." She adverted her gaze. "I mean, I left. Bellamy and I were never technically _together, together,_ I guess." She wanted to fade into the shadows. This was awkward. Why did Luna need to know this? "But the alliance is over."

"I see." She didn't sound surprised. Clarke wondered if she already knew the truth, or if she was just that good at hiding her emotions.

"Something happened the day before yesterday," Clarke continued. She didn't know why the words flowed so easily from her mouth. Luna was practically a stranger. Maybe that's why it was so easy. They didn't know each other. "The rest of your pack – Ontari, Cage and Roan – they found us. They cornered us." She wet her lips and tried blinking tears from her eyes. She was glad she was done wrapping Luna's leg, because she couldn't see clearly anymore. Her throat felt tight.

When Clarke couldn't continue talking, Luna spoke up. "I seen them in the sky." She whipped her head up to look at her. "I didn't know what happened – I still don't – but I seen them two nights ago." Luna gripped Clarke's hand with her own. "I'm sorry you lost them."

Clarke adverted her eyes to the ground, anger overwhelming her. "They slaughtered them like they were nothing." Her lips twitched. "They didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve to die."

"Monty. Raven. Murphy. Lincoln." Clarke's anger was halted as Luna recited their names.

"You knew them?"

"I know all of the tributes' names. All the Careers memorized them." Clarke's heart sunk a little bit at that. It was a strange sensation. An even stranger thought occurred to her; she _wanted_ to talk to Luna about them. She _hoped_ Luna did know them, so they could share the burden of pain together. "Knowing names makes it easier to communicate when needed."

Clarke pulled away from Luna, settling on the ground across from her. "Yeah. That was their names."

"Roan was in the sky, too."

Clarke didn't feel a single shred of remorse in that second. That terrified her.

"He was. I killed him."

Luna didn't look offended by this. "What happened? That's almost more dead than the bloodbath."

 _And so she told her._

She told her about where they made camp. She told her how she heard the creak of the steps seconds before the first spear was thrown. She told her how Monty was the first to die; how his blood splattered across her face; how Raven refused to let go of his body. She told her how Murphy was shot with an arrow in his abdomen, but he still managed to pull her and Raven to the roof. She told her how they were cornered, but Octavia found a route down.

It was painful to remember, even though those few moments had been playing for her on repeat for the last two days. It was even harder to talk about Raven's sacrifice. How scared she looked, yet how determined and strong.

Her heart clenched painfully when she talked about how she abandoned Bellamy and Octavia when they needed her most. She left them because she was angry and in pain. She told her about her regrets and her grief.

 _And Luna listened._

"The worst part was watching them die," she admitted. Clarke didn't know how long she had been talking for. It could've been hours. Time was the last thing on her mind. Her dad's watch still sat on her arm, but she turned the face towards her inner wrist, away from her eyes. Somehow, knowing how much time she had been alone for made things worse. "I've been trained to save people. I was training to be a medic – I had been training for years. And… I couldn't save them. I couldn't do anything."

"You didn't have the time," Luna supplied.

"It doesn't matter." She wiped away her tears. "I had to watch as they died and I couldn't do anything about it. No matter what I could've done differently, they would've died. I know I wouldn't have been enough to take on all three Careers while everyone escaped. I know I couldn't have seen this coming – none of us did. Maybe that was our problem. We stayed in one place for too long. We got too comfortable."

"You can't blame yourself," she said. "They were hunting you. You wouldn't have been safe anywhere you went."

"I could've tried harder though." Clarke didn't realize she had enough water in her body to keep making tears. They just kept coming and coming. "I am a medic. I should have been able to save them."

"A medic can't save everyone," she said. "I… I know that you can't save everyone, even in the best conditions." Luna grimaced as she reached into her pocket. She pulled out a tiny brass figurine – barely the size of a finger. Clarke could easily tell it was a figurine of a Peacekeeper. "This was my brother's. It's my token, now." She lifted it for Clarke to see. "He got sick. We brought him to the medic. _Medics,_ actually – we seen dozens of them." She ran her thumb over the figurine. "He still died."

"I'm sorry."

Luna didn't say anything. She stuffed her token back into her pocket. "Nobody can save the world. Nobody can save everyone. Not you, not anyone."

"I wish I could've." Clarke bit the inside of her cheek. "I wish I was able to save them. To stop Raven from sacrificing herself, to be smart enough to realize something was wrong with Murphy."

"I didn't know them, but I doubt they would want you to be feeling this way," she told her. Clarke glared at her. _She didn't know them. She shouldn't be allowed to talk about them_. "I'm just saying. Raven did what she did so you all could escape. She knew Monty died, she knew Lincoln died. She didn't do it for your whole alliance – she did it for you. She did it for Bellamy. She did it for Octavia. She did it for John."

"Murphy," Clarke corrected. Her heart tugged painfully at his name. "His name was Murphy."

"Right." Luna shifted. "She did it for Murphy. She was smart. At least, that's what Roan told me about her, from when we were observing tributes during training. 'She's fucking brilliant,' are actually the words he said." Clarke cracked a smile at that. "She wouldn't have done those things without thinking them through first. Everything you're feeling regret over – not saving her, not being enough to figure out a plan to save everyone – she thought of that too, I'm sure. If she was as smart as everyone says she was, she would've thought of everything."

"I know. She was smart."

"Life sucks. People die." Clarke tried to muster enough anger to glare, but she was sure it was pathetic. "I know. It shouldn't be life. Life shouldn't suck, but it does, especially in here. I haven't lost people I cared about in the arena – I didn't really care about anyone anymore – but I did lose people out there. I lost my brother when we were younger. I lost friends to the arena for years before me. I lost a sister to the sea. I lost my father to a winter storm. I'm not a stranger to death or loss.

"Losing people is hard, but living without them is harder. It's terrible. You'll never get over it – not really. In some ways, you will, I suppose. You'll live. You'll move on. Some days, you'll hurt so much that you don't remember how you managed those days without pain. Some days, you will be able to think of them and smile. It takes time."

"Time I don't have." Clarke smirked at the pain. Here Luna was, talking about needing time to heal and move on, but she would never be able to get that. Go figure; she would die with grief and regrets in her heart.

"You never know."

Clarke didn't know where the words came from and she didn't know why she was telling Luna this, but it was easy to talk to her. "I don't know how I would live myself if I lived anyways." The other girl cocked an eyebrow. "I've killed so many people. They were all just kids. The girl from District 9, Atom, Wells, Charlotte, Ilian, Monty, Raven, Lincoln, Murphy, Roan. I watched them all die. I watched kids suffer and I couldn't stop it. I've wished death upon people. I watched as the life drained from people. If I ever get out of here, I don't know how I would live."

"For years I reveled in death and violence. So trust me when I tell you, if I found peace, _you_ can." Luna's hand found hers again. "I was trained to be a Career – to kill and fight and never think twice. _And I did._ I've done terrible things – unspeakable things. I've watched people die." She squeezed her hand. "You can find peace, too. If you're given the time."

"Maybe." Clarke couldn't imagine a world where she didn't carry guilt and remorse. For her father. For Wells. For her allies.

For Bellamy.

Clarke tried to distract herself. That seemed the best way to deal with her emotions – at least, it felt like that. She knew it wasn't healthy, to keep running, but she felt like there wasn't another option.

"How did you get injured? Did you bump into another tribute?"

Luna snorted. "I wish." She seemed to relax as she spoke. "No, I got this from Ontari. Bitch."

Clarke blinked. "What?"

"After we attacked your alliance at the cave, they were making plans to follow you guys again. They kept wanting to come back until all of you were dead. They weren't going to let go of the fact that Bellamy and Octavia were changing the game _and_ they had gotten on her bad side during training. Cage had a vendetta against them. Roan wanted a fight. I wanted peace. I wanted to forget about all of the plotting and revenge and killing – I just wanted to survive as peacefully as possible.

"I tried to talk them out of their plans to target you guys, but they wouldn't listen. I kept trying and trying all day. Ontari warned me about sounding like the Blakes – she reminded me that their compassion and softness was what put them on her kill list. It was a threat, in an Ontari way – she was telling me that if I started acting like them, I would be next. I knew they weren't going to change their minds at that point, so I tried to leave.

"Ontari must've seen me trying to sneak away at night. She didn't want another Career leaving the pack and going soft. She tried to kill me." Luna gestured to her leg. "She got a good hit, and I couldn't scratch her after that. I jumped into the river west of Cornucopia – I knew they couldn't swim." She smirked. "I mean, Cage should've been able to, but he's shit at everything he tries, so I had that to my advantage. I escaped. I hid. I walked." She grimaced. "I probably shouldn't have done that."

"You lived," Clarke pointed out. "You did good. You did a good thing."

"Well, next time you see your boyfriend, tell him it was because of him. Tell him that he's doing good, too."

Clarke's grin disappeared at that. "I'm not going to see him again."

"I thought you said you regretted leaving?"

"I do."

"But you don't plan to go back to him?" Luna seemed genuinely confused.

"It's not that simple." Clarke didn't even know what to explain. Wasn't it complicated? It sure felt like it in her head. "I left them. I told them the alliance was over."

"So?"

"So?" Clarke echoed, her tone dipping. "I just… I don't know. I don't even know where he is. I don't know if they would want me back as an ally." Her voice trembled. "I hurt him. I don't know if he would even want to see me."

"Do you want to see him?"

She answered without hesitation. "Of course."

"Then go to him. You don't have unlimited time. In the arena, we're on a timer." She gestured to Clarke's watch on her wrist, like it proved her point. "Everything has an expiration date. You, me, him. Only one of the remaining tributes will survive.

"You don't have forever – you have now. I don't know you, but I get the feeling you would regret not trying to get back to him if you seen his face in the sky tonight. If he dies and you two aren't on good terms, you'd be broken. It would only be worse if he died and you knew you never tried to see him again."

 _Luna was right._

"I don't know where he is," she admitted. Her heart was racing in her chest. She wanted to be with him, suddenly. She wanted to run through the forest until she was by his side.

"You know where he was last?" She nodded. "Then you have a place to start."

Clarke chewed on her lip. "That means I'll be getting closer to the city again. That's where the Careers are."

Luna snorted. "I know I'm not going to be the Victor. I doubt you think you're going to be the Victor. So what are you afraid of? _Dying_? We're all going to die anyways, right?"

When Luna put it like that, Clarke felt stupid for being scared to go back to the city.

"If you die trying, you know you tried. If he dies while you're trying to get back to him, you'll know in your heart that you were _trying._ But if he dies or if you die and you never tried – you're going to have regrets; regrets bigger than the ones you have now."

"I don't want that," Clarke agreed. "I… Gods, I'm an idiot."

"You are." Luna's grin was wide. "But so am I. We're just human."

Clarke was already climbing off the ground. "I have to find him. I need to get back to him."

Luna's smile was genuine. "Good. Go." As Clarke was picking up her backpack and sword, Luna climbed off the ground with a groan. Clarke's motions slowed.

"Be careful," she warned. "You should stay off that leg for a few days. Keep applying the ointment and tie the wraps like I showed you. You'll be okay."

 _I hope you'll be okay._

" _From the water we are born, to the water we return_." That saying reminded Clarke of the saying her district had – the one she repeated when Wells died. "I'm dying, Clarke." She was shocked at how calm she was. "I'm going for water. I want to die there – like I would have back home."

It was strange, looking at someone who should've been a stranger, and feeling grief for them. Clarke didn't really know her, but she was sad this was goodbye. She knew that when she seen her face in the sky, she would cry for her.

"Thank you, Luna." Clarke was surprised by the emotion in her voice. "I… I don't know what to say."

"We're just kids," Luna said, repeating Clarke's words from earlier. "If I want the world to be a better place, that has to start with me. I'm sorry for everything, Clarke."

"I know."

She smirked. "I know."

With that, Clarke turned to the west. She imagined the city off in the distance.

 _It was time to find Bellamy._

* * *

 **First of all, there were several quotes scattered throughout this chapter that we either taken from the show or were inspired by dialogue from the show. "For years I reveled in death and violence. So trust me when I tell you, if I found peace, you can" and "From the water we are born, to the water we return" are the two phrases. I love Luna quotes.**

 **Ah, okay, so this was surprisingly one of my favourite chapters to write. It was just so hopeful and it had a lot of good advice (or, at least, advice I felt sounded good haha – but what do I know).**

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter (none). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 4 Male: Cage  
District 4 Female: Luna  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thanks for reading. The next update will be on Thursday! Reviews are appreciated! Especially if you're reading haha - I don't know how many people are still around! Let me know!**

 **Paw**


	43. Chapter 43: Another Friend

**The warnings for this chapter are found at the bottom. Themes are a darker than usual in this chapter, so if you feel like you'd like a warning for what is to come, check down there (please note, spoilers for the chapter are present there!)**

 **As always, if you're concerned about something or would like to talk to me about the warnings (or if you'd like a chapter summary instead), please reach out to me through a review!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 43: Another Friend**

* * *

 _Day 11 in the arena_

* * *

The next time Clarke woke up, she was sure she was going to die.

Instantly, she was pulled from her peaceful and blissful sleep and she was thrust right back into the arena. Her eyes flew open and her body went rigid.

 _Why did she wake up?_

Clarke pressed her back closer to the trunk of the tree she had curled up against the night prior, her heart racing in her chest. She didn't know why, but she held her breath and she strained her ears.

Something must've woke her. There wasn't another explanation for how her body was reacting. _Something was close by._

Clarke was thankful that she chose to curl up against the roots for a tree and under a bush. At least, this way, she had some coverage.

"No!"

She jolted as a shrill scream filled the otherwise silent night. Her eyes flew open and any last remainder of sleep fled her system. Adrenaline rushed into her body, causing her senses to become heightened.

"Just tell us where she is, Luna." Clarke's heart leapt to her throat as she realized the girl screaming was Luna. And the voice… _The voice._

No. Please… no.

"Don't you dare touch me," Luna snarled. She was much closer to Clarke than she originally guessed. Her throat closed up and her heart completely stopped. "Ontari, I swear on the sea, if you-"

"If I what?"

 _Shit._ Clarke's blood ran completely cold and she was filled with absolute dread. It wasn't like she needed the conformation Luna brought her; she would be able to recognize Ontari's voice anywhere. She had heard it enough over the last few weeks for it to be permanently etched into her mind.

"If you lay a hand on me, I won't hold back." Clarke flinched as a boot finally stepped into her field of vision, only a meter away from the bush she hid under.

She was absolutely petrified with fear. She was trapped under the bush now, whether she liked it or not.

"I'd like to see you try, 4. We both know you only survived this long in the arena because of me."

The boot stumbled back as there was a sound of skin on skin. Clarke winced and she could only imagine someone being punched. She hoped it was Ontari.

 _That was enough._ Clarke turned her head slightly, moving it just enough so she could see through the branches.

Luna held the side of her cheek, a red patch blossoming across her face. Ontari stood inches away from her, her hand curled into a fist at her side. What shocked Clarke the most was the amount of anger and hate in Luna's eyes.

She knew the two Career tributes had a falling out during the Games, but it shook Clarke to the core to see the two of them toe-to-toe like this. Luna looked like she was seconds away from lunging at Ontari, while Ontari looked like she could murder.

Clarke had no doubt about either statement. She had seen both of these tributes in actions and neither one of them was to be messed with.

"Where's Cage?" Luna growled, her voice muffled by her hand. "Finally get sick of you like the rest of us?"

"Screw off."

"I'm sure Roan absolutely _died_ when he found out you were his district partner, right? He hated you."

"Watch your mouth, Luna."

"Cage always talked shit about you too." Luna was taunting her, but Clarke couldn't figure out why. She already looked angry enough – what was the point in egging her on more? "I'm not surprised that you two already-"

Ontari swung her arm up in a wide arc. Clarke watched with horror as a small knife glinted in the moonlight. _It was headed right for Luna's face._

She wanted to scream out and warn the District 4 tribute. While they weren't exactly best friends, she didn't deserve to die. She was kind and she was compassionate; two traits almost impossible to find in the arena at this point. _She didn't deserve this._

She winced right before the knife connected with Luna's face. It was a cowards move, but she couldn't bring herself to watch someone else get hurt. She couldn't bring herself to watch someone else die in the arena.

 _How many more people would she have to watch suffer? How many people would she have to watch die?_

She could hear a grunt of pain and the rustle of clothing. When there wasn't a scream of pain or the thump of a body hitting the ground, Clarke forced her eyes open, her body completely rigid.

Luna had her hand pressed against Ontari's mouth and her arm locked around her neck, while her second arm was locked around her torso, pinning her arms in place. The knife in Ontari's hand had fallen to the ground just below their feet, now perfectly in front of Clarke's eyes.

"I told you not to touch me," Luna's voice was dangerously low. In that moment, Clarke was tempted to jump out from where she had fallen asleep and help Luna keep Ontari occupied, but she still felt like she couldn't move.

Ontari trashed in Luna's arms, a short grunt coming out from behind Luna's hand. Her hand pressed further into her mouth, smothering her sound.

"Shut up." Ontari trashed a bit more. "Where's Cage? Huh? Where is he?" It was only then did Luna remove her hand from Ontari's mouth.

She took a heaving breath. "He left, okay? You're right." She trashed. "Get off of me."

"I don't take orders from you anymore," she hissed. Her grip on her arms tightened. "Why did you want to know about Clarke Griffin?"

With those words, Clarke felt her heart completely stop. She could've sworn the forest dropped several degrees. Her skin absolutely crawled and she felt like the hands of death were clawing at her back.

"Don't play stupid," she snapped. "You know why."

"Why don't you make it blatantly obvious then?" she growled. "Why the hell are you asking me? You know for a fact we aren't allies."

"I know for a fact that you couldn't be alive right now without her," Ontari countered. "You needed stitches after what happened last time and I doubt the likes of you could perform that on your own."

"The likes of me?" Luna's hand tightened around her upper body. "I'd like to hear you say that again."

"The likes of you – as in someone who is completely incompetent." Ontari spit at her hand and Luna growled. "But, please, Luna, tell me how you are still alive right now. I'm not stupid."

"I don't think you're in a position to be making requests right now," she snapped. "What do you want with Clarke?"

Then, in a split second, everything changed.

Luna's grasp went slack, her eyes widening in horror. Ontari used this to her advantage and dove to the ground, grabbing the knife from the forest floor. Before Luna could move, Ontari was facing her, her knife pointed at her neck.

 _What happened?_

Clarke let out a small noise when she realized what happened. Luna went falling to her knees, a strangled cry sounding from her lips.

 _A knife was protruding from her back._ She could already see the blood hitting the dead leaves across the forest floor.

 _No. No, no, no._

Horror filled Clarke once again. Her hand was pressed tightly over her own mouth, preventing any more sounds from escaping. She could feel tears running down her face and her vision went blurry from being unable to wipe them away.

Cage stepped out from a tree a few feet behind where Luna and Ontari stood, a sick smile on his face. As Luna gasped for breath, he smirked at Ontari.

"Nice shot," she complimented. Cage stalked up to Luna and reached for the knife, yanking it from her body.

Clarke's blood curdled at the sound of Luna screaming in pain. Her scream made the few birds in the forest take flight, sending them to the sky. She crumpled to the ground, her face landing in the mud at Ontari's boots.

 _But she was still alive._ Clarke could see her back rising and falling rapidly with each breath. She was going into shock. _All Clarke could do was watch in absolute horror._

Luna's head lifted up an inch as she tried to climb up from the ground. The effort was too much and she collapsed, her ear now digging into the ground.

 _Their eyes met._

Through the thick branches of the bush, Luna's eyes connected with Clarke's. The air got sucked from her lungs at this connection. She looked so scared and so broken – a shell of the human she had talked to only hours before.

Just as Clarke was preparing to leap to help her, she froze. Luna shook her head the tiniest amount, freezing her to the spot.

 _No. Don't do it._

Even as she lay bleeding into the mud at the feet of her former allies, she had a fiery streak in her.

Luna's words rang in her ears; she wanted to do good, live good, and _be_ good. She wanted to help people and protect others. She wanted to find peace with what she had done in the past.

 _Run._ Her eyes seemed to take on a level of determination. _Run,_ she seemed to be trying to tell her.

But Clarke couldn't. She wouldn't abandon a friend – not again. _She would never be making that mistake again._

She wouldn't make the same mistake that she made with Raven. She wouldn't be making that same mistake – not ever again. _She promised herself._

Somehow, this was the world's way of testing her. _Let's see how well you stick to your promise._

Ontari slammed her boot to the side of Luna's body, eliciting another sharp yelp of pain from the red-head. Clarke had to bite down on her lips to keep from screaming. Her teeth cut into the flesh, drawing blood.

Cage reached down and hauled Luna to her feet, throwing her into Ontari's arms before she could even catch her balance. Clarke watched in horror as Luna's head lulled to the side, the life slowly bleeding out of her.

"Now, wouldn't your mother be proud of who you've become?" she rasped, her head lifting the slightest bit to meet Cage's eye.

"Don't," Ontari hissed, stopping Cage before he could lunge at her. She pressed the blade of her knife into Luna's throat.

Luna chuckled. "You're cute, you know that?" she muttered, her voice dry. "I think I used to play these kind of Games when I was a child too."

"Don't test me," the younger girl warned. "I'm giving you a good offer. You tell me what Clarke needed and _anything else_ and you can go. Easy, right?"

"You're a bitch."

Ontari's blade dug a little deeper into Luna's neck. "All of this isn't worth the life of a stranger, is it? You barely know her."

"I'd rather die as someone who tried to be good than as someone who gave up the life of another human being." Luna wiggled slightly, a little fight left in her.

"We both know you aren't a good person," Cage snapped. "Don't forget; we trained together at the academy."

Luna's eyes lazily flicked over to his. "Which is why I know you're absolute shit at anything you do."

"Kill her," Cage ordered, his voice sharp. "Kill her now, Ontari."

"Think about who you're talking to," she snapped, her knife leaving Luna's neck and pointing at Cage. "I swear, Cage, if you try to undermine me _one more time,_ you'll be next. Got it?"

He glared. "Whatever. Just get what we need." With that, he turned his back on the pair of girls, walking a few paces away.

Ontari's knife moved back to Luna's neck. She laughed in the face of death. Clarke never felt more horrified or so useless.

"I don't want to kill you," she said, her voice turning sickly sweet.

Luna snorted. "Right. That's why I had District 10 stitch up my leg. Because you trying to _stab me_ was a little ambiguous, Ontari."

"Don't lie to me," she hissed. "We both know Dax can't tell the blade from a handle on a sword. Don't try to tell me he knows how to suture a wound." The blade pressed tighter into her throat, drawing blood. "Just tell me what you know about Clarke and I'll let you go."

"It's a fair deal," Cage promised. "You don't know her. She doesn't care about you. _What do you have to lose._ "

Using one of the tricks Ontari pulled earlier, Luna spat on her. Ontari's eyes flashed. Clarke knew that expression from the roof all those nights ago; she was at her final hair of patience.

"You're going to regret that," she warned. "One last chance!"

 _Clarke had enough._

Before she could even think about what she was doing, she was moving out of the bush. She scrambled into a standing position, her sword drawn at her side.

Her movements seemed to freeze the three Careers to their spot.

 _Shit._ She didn't really have a plan. All she knew was she had to save Luna. All she knew was that she couldn't stand by as yet another teenager was murdered.

Luna's eyes met Clarke's, her fear absolutely evident. " _RUN!"_

 _Those were her final words._

Before Clarke could react, Luna's body was dropping to the ground, blood flowing down the front of her body. She hit the ground with a solid thud, her eyes unseeing.

 _Luna was dead._

She was dead.

 _Clarke was completely numb._ She felt dread and terrified and horrified, but they felt silenced. It felt like she had put a filter on her mind, clearing out her emotions.

She turned to Ontari, her eyes wide. Her knife that was once pressed to Luna's neck was covered in blood. Ontari met her eyes, her facial expression unphased.

"You… You promised," Clarke stuttered, her eyes falling to Luna's body. _She was in shock._ She knew it. She knew that she was in so much shock that her body was shutting down, protecting itself. Her thoughts were muddled, her body frozen, and her emotions dampened. "You promised you'd let her go."

"I lied."

Clarke felt a sharp burst of pain on the left side of her head, sending her toppling to the ground.

* * *

When Clarke woke back up, she was groggy. Her eyelids felt like lead and her head was absolutely throbbing. She could feel the sun beating down on her face; she could already tell her cheeks were burning. She could feel a kink in her neck from how she slept.

When she opened her eyes, she was confused. She was in the middle of a field, just outside the city.

She blinked, willing memories back. What happened? How did she end up here?

She blinked a few more times. Why did her head hurt so much?

Clarke tried to lift her arm so she could touch her head, but she found she couldn't. Her arm was stuck. What was it stuck on?

Lazily, she glanced down.

She knew she should've been horrified of the position she was in, but… she wasn't. She found that all of her energy had been sucked out of her, leaving her utterly deflated.

She was seated in a chair, with a thick rope tying her ankles to each leg of it. Her arms were stretched behind her and she could only assume the same rope secured her hands there.

Clarke winced as her head gave a particularly painful throb, a gasp coming through her teeth. Once again, she tried to lift her hand up to touch her head, but she didn't get any further.

Her eyes flicked back to the city. When did she get back here? The last thing she remembered was…

 _Luna._

Clarke's heart dropped to her stomach and dread filled her system. Where she thought she lacked energy before was now filled with adrenaline.

 _No._ No. Oh, gods, no.

She couldn't breath suddenly. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over her head, freezing her in place. A shiver ran down her spine despite sitting under the sun.

Luna was dead. _She watched her die._ She was murdered right in front of her and she didn't do anything about it.

Clarke remembered the fear and desperation in her eyes seconds before Ontari's knife dug into her throat. She could still see Ontari's careless expression as she tossed the body to the ground. She still could feel that mix of numbness and shock in her system.

And she could feel the butt of Cage's sword smacking into her skull, knocking her out.

 _That's why her head stung._ He smacked her hard enough to knock her out, but, obviously, not hard enough to kill her.

How did she end up here, though, in the middle of the field? She was knocked out when she was still in the forest. She watched Luna die while they stood amongst the trees.

Clarke closed her eyes, the bright light suddenly becoming too much for her. She felt dizzy and sick.

A concussion, most likely. She was surprised this was her first one of the Games, considering how many times she had been flung around. She was surprised she wasn't dead, at this point.

 _Forest, field, city. Forest, field, city._

That was the layout of the arena. A city in the dead centre of the arena, a thin ring of field surrounding that, and then the remainder being forest.

How did she end up in the field though?

She had a strong sense to laugh at the visual in her mind. Somehow, it was hilarious to imagine Cage having to carry her unconscious body from the forest to this shitty little chair she sat in. Somehow, it was even funnier for her to imagine _Ontari_ doing it.

Clarke couldn't suppress the smile that lifted her lips at the images. She knew it wasn't really funny. _Nothing about the arena was funny._ She had been covered in so many people's blood over the last few days that she had begun to lose track.

Murphy. Octavia. Atom. Wells. Roan. Bellamy. Monty. Luna.

The list wasn't quite endless, but it felt that way.

If she hadn't been knocked out for too long, then this should've still been the eleventh day in the arena. The sun was near its pinnacle, telling her that it was only around noon.

She hoped that she had only been knocked out for a few hours and not a few days. Somehow, the idea of being asleep in a chair for a few days was too odd for her. Plus, she couldn't get the image of Cage and Ontari _literally_ standing around, waiting for her to wake up out of her mind.

 _Speaking of…_ Clarke twisted her head around, ignoring the stinging sensation coming from her left side. She seemed to be in the middle of a makeshift camp. The Career's camp?

No wonder they never bumped into them in the city; they had been stationed just outside of it this whole time.

A small pile of supplies sat a few feet away from her. She could see bags of food and bottles of water laying haphazardly. It was in that moment that she realized just how hungry and thirsty she was.

When did she last eat? Drink?

She couldn't remember and that was terrifying.

Next to the pile of food was a stash of weapons. Swords, knives, and spears littered the ground. Most were covered in blood, but others looked relatively untouched.

But where were the Careers? Where were Ontari and Cage?

Clarke turned back to face the front of her chair, her eyes scanning the land around her for them. Instead of catching sight of other tributes, she caught sight of something glinting in the grass.

 _Her watch._

Clarke's heart dropped to her stomach when she seen that. Her one hand felt the opposite wrist and, _sure enough,_ her watch was missing. _Her father's watch._

Her heart went cold. This was the first time in a long time that she had taken that watch off. The last time she left it behind was when she went on the day trip with Bellamy the day before her alliance was murdered, and before that, it was when she nearly died in the pond. Both times were to protect the watch from the weather of the arena.

Her wrist felt bare. Her chest felt tight.

She hadn't been able to look at the watch for days now; not since she lost her friends. Somehow, keeping track of time seemed unimportant. She didn't really want to know how long she'd survived without them, either.

Time had been something so important to her while she was locked up, since it connected everyone on Earth. Every second was the same for everyone.

Now, in the arena, she didn't want to think about time. It just meant she was closer to her death, or she was closing to losing people she loved. When her worst fears came true, time was just a reminder that she was still alive and they weren't.

A gust of wind came, blowing her hair into her face. When the hair along the left side of her head stayed stuck to her neck and her face, she realized that it was _glued_ there.

 _With her blood._

But, the thing with the wind was that it carried sounds. In that brief moment, she could hear what sounded like a human voice. It was high pitched and annoying.

Must've been Ontari.

Clarke lulled her head forward again and tried to relax her shoulders. Maybe if she pretended she was still knocked out, she would be able to figure out a plan to escape without them noticing her. If they knew she was awake, she was sure they would want to talk to her or _something._

As she leaned her chin against her chest, she wondered why they were looking for her in the first place. Why had they tracked Luna down and killed her over her? Why were they suddenly so interested in her?

Well, it wasn't really sudden, but it confused Clarke nonetheless. She had bad blood with them since that moment they shared in the fighting ring when Bellamy first trained her, but this was overkill, wasn't it?

Ontari and Cage must've been really petty if they were _still_ trying to hunt her down and make her pay revenge. The only reason she was ever even on their radar was because she was supposedly allies with Bellamy. The only reason they ever cared about her was because she tore their alliance apart.

Gods, how dumb? What a stupid thing to try and kill another person over. _Like, oh, sorry I talked to that one guy._ What were they? Ten?

Whatever the reason was, they seemed hell-bent on making her pay. _In the ring, on the roof, in the arena –_ they had been harassing her for _weeks._

She was sick of it.

And all over an ally? Was that really worth killing someone over?

Well, considering this was the Hunger Games, she had seen people get killed for less. _Like breathing._ It just seemed really stupid they had tracked and targeted her and Bellamy over something so small and irrelevant.

Plus, at this point in the Games, would Ontari, Cage and Bellamy still be in the Career pack if things had gone the way they hoped? She doubted it. Even if Bellamy decided joining the Career pack was a good move, she would've bet anything that they would've disbanded by now.

Alliances never lasted long in the arena. She learned that the hard way.

If that were the case, why were they still spending their time trying to take revenge over it?

A loud bang came from behind her, making her flinch. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath, trying her best to keep from yelping.

It didn't seem to matter. She had already jumped; that was something she wouldn't have done if she was still unconscious.

She swore under her breath. They must've sensed that she was awake and tested it.

Clarke cringed as she heard their voices drawing nearer. As the approached, they turned into hushed whispers, but their boots crushing the long grass with each step gave her a good estimation on where they were.

"Good morning, princess," Ontari drawled, her voice feigning chipperness. "I was worried Cage killed you." She turned to him, a smirk on her lips. "Which, I mean, would've been doing Panem a favour, but you're not any use to us dead."

"I'm not any use to you alive, either," she said, her voice raspy. She met Ontari's glare head-on.

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Ontari reached forward and squeezed Clarke's cheek, a sickly sweet smile on her face. "You'll wish that Cage have killed you before we're through with you."

She felt hollow on the inside.

Ontari turned around and strolled to the left, moving out of Clarke's vision, but she knew she was headed towards the stash of weapons she had seen earlier. With Ontari gone, she was left staring at Cage.

While he was much taller than Ontari, he wasn't nearly as intimidating as before; especially after she watched as he cowered and backed down to Ontari's orders only the night before.

"She's just using you," Clarke said, her voice low.

She was desperate. Maybe she'd be able to stir up some hostility between them and she could slip out with their confrontation. She knew it wouldn't be impossible to do. The only reason the two Career tributes weren't at each other's throats was because they were at hers.

"Did you see what she did to Luna back there? She didn't hesitate to kill her and she used to be one of you guys. She was a Career, just like you."

" _Used_ to be," he snapped, his eyes dark. "I would've killed her, too. _Without hesitation._ " Clarke didn't doubt how true his words were. "Shut up, dog." _The name was the same one they used when harassing her on the roof._ She almost laughed. Did they ever get creative?

"Or… Or what about when Roan died, huh?" Clarke was rambling now, trying anything to rile him up and set him on his ally. "Did she mourn him? Or did she run away, not phased?" He didn't respond. _Good._ She took that she was getting under his skin. "They used to be district partner, right? If she couldn't mourn for him, do you think she'll mourn for you?"

"We did one better than mourning," he snarled, spit flying from his lips. "We got revenge. We _killed_ for him."

"What about Bellamy or Octavia? They're just like you two, aren't they? They're Careers. But you hate them. _She_ hates them. Why?" She barely even thought about the words flying from her mouth. "Because they didn't do what she wanted? Because they thought they knew better for themselves?" She forced past the lump in her throat that she felt when talking about the Blakes. "What will happen when _you_ make choices for yourself – just like they did? She'll hate you too. You'll just be another Bellamy to her."

She gasped as pain blossomed across her right cheek from where Cage slapped her. She froze for a second to catch her breath before turning to him, hate in her eyes.

"Don't ever compare me to the Blakes," he hissed. He looked like he was on the brink of losing all rational thoughts from his anger. "They're filth – just like you. Worthless excuses of tributes."

"I knew you must've ran into them," Ontari said, finally returning from the pile of weapons. "I made sure to cut Octavia deep enough to kill her." Her eyes glinted. "Of course, I made sure it would be a slow and painful death. I couldn't let her have the bliss that came with no pain." She shrugged, finally moving into Clarke's filed of vision. She was carrying a large bucket of water, which she dropped at her feet. Clarke wanted nothing more than to dunk her head in it and drink in that moment. _She was so thirsty._ "When I didn't see that bitch's face in the sky, I knew you must've found them."

"And so what?" Clarke snapped, drawing her eyes back up to Ontari's.

"And so _you fucking lied to us._ " Ontari lunged at Clarke slamming her shoulder into the back of the chair. She didn't give her the pleasure of seeing her wince. Instead, she felt her jaw groan from the force she used to clench her mouth shut. "Do you remember what you told us? Back in the Capitol?"

 _She remembered._

Instead of answering, she glared. She hoped Ontari could see how pissed off she was.

"You told us you weren't in an alliance with him." She pushed herself roughly off of Clarke, her fingers digging in tightly to her arm as she did. Clarke grimaced slightly. "And who the hell did we find – not _once_ and not even fucking _twice_ together?"

"You and the Blakes." Cage stepped forward, glowering at Clarke. She lifted her chin and stared at him straight in the eyes. "You were too easy to find."

"I told you to stay away from them for your own good," Ontari said. "I warned you, Clarke."

"I seem to have a habit of not caring." Clarke spit a mouthful of blood at Ontari's feet. "I hope you realize how _fucking stupid_ this whole vendetta of yours is," she pointed out. "You're targeting them – and why? Because they didn't want to play in the sandbox with you?"

"Don't pretend that you hold any power here," she warned. "This isn't about the Blakes or about me or about even you. _It's about all of us._ All of the Careers – all of the _leaders_ and the _Victors_ of the future." Her fist flexed at her side and Clarke tensed up, already expecting a punch. "It's a message to the future of Panem."

"And what might that message be?" Clarke held her head high, her confidence unwavering.

"If you're a Career, _be_ a Career." She smirked. "If you don't carry out your responsibilities, you'll die."

"Like Luna. Like Octavia. Like Bellamy."

"And if you get in the way, you'll _wish_ you had the luxury of death." Ontari slammed her fist into Clarke's stomach, making her eyes fly wide open and the air whoosh out of her lungs. Ontari pulled back and blew a strand of loose hair out of her eyes. "Let _that_ be our message. Know your place or pay the price."

As Clarke's body stung with pain, she slowly turned back towards the young Career. She couldn't help but let a low laugh bubble out from her lips.

This was ridiculous. How did she end up here?

Then, she seen Ontari pull out a square piece of cloth from her pocket. In that instant, she realized exactly what she was planning on doing.

 _She was going to drown._

With the cloth in her hand and the bucket of water at her feet, she would drown in the middle of a field.

Clarke felt her heart begin to race in her chest, fear overwhelming her. She'd been her before, only days ago. She was pulled to the bottom of the lake by mutts, their fingernails hooking into her skin.

The only reason she survived was because Bellamy dove in after her and sliced his hand open. He was the one to pull her to the surface, to hold her as she struggled to catch her breath.

 _And in those moments she was convinced she was going to drown,_ his face was the last one she would see. In this case, she knew the last face she would see wouldn't be so friendly. It wouldn't be the face of someone she loved.

But _maybe this was what her fate was._ Maybe this was what was written in the stars for her. After all, she would've died in that lake if Bellamy hadn't saved her. _Maybe it was always fated she would drown._

Still, she held her head high. She locked eyes with the girl, her eyes burning with anger.

"Go ahead, Ontari," she mumbled, blood filling her mouth from a split lip. She tried to spit it towards her, but it only managed to dribble down her chin. "I have nothing left to lose."

"Don't take this too personally, Clarke," she said. "This was never really about you."

Clarke locked her jaw and clenched her fists, determined not to let out a scream at anything the Careers would do to try to break her. She wouldn't break, no matter what happened to her.

 _This was her message too._

She was broken and bruised and bleeding; she had faults, made mistakes, and let her friends die; and she had lost _everything._

But she wouldn't let these Careers win. _No._

And she wouldn't break. _She wouldn't break._

Ontari threw the piece of cloth over her face, closing her off from the world. She sucked in a few deep breaths and closed her eyes.

* * *

What felt like hours later, Clarke cracked her eyes open. If she felt like her eyes were heavy before, she was wrong. She had never felt so exhausted or so distant from her own body. She fought unconsciousness with every fibre of her own being, willing herself to stay awake and to keep silent.

The first thing Clarke noticed was that the sun was starting to disappear behind the trees. How long had she been here for? If she woke up just past noon, what time was it now?

She couldn't say, but it felt like a lifetime. _It looked like hours according to the sun's movement._

Her body ached from everything she had experienced since waking up that day. She didn't know how long it went on for, but Ontari seemed to find joy in pouring water along her face. Even though she tried to pretend like it wasn't impacting her, she couldn't help but thrash around, trying to get away from the water, trying to keep it out of her lungs.

Her lungs burned. She seen spots in her vision. Her heart raced. She thrashed and thrashed as she tried to shake the cloth from her face.

And, when she thought she was about to die, she didn't. The cloth was ripped from her face. She took lung full after lung full of air, gasping and retching and struggling for breath.

 _Over and over and over again._ The same thing happened.

When Cage got bored of that, he left. And when Ontari seemed to realized Clarke was refusing to make any noises, she got annoyed.

The torture grew more intense after that. As Clarke struggled to catch her breath one time, Ontari drew her knife from her holster and waved it in her face. Clarke didn't flinch away from it. _She didn't have the energy to._

And, in that moment, Clarke knew that she was doing the right thing. She knew she had to keep going with what she was doing – she had to continue to be silent. Her silence was driving Ontari to a breaking point.

If she wanted to prove to the world that Careers were ruthless, she would have to try harder. If she wanted to prove to the outer districts not to get involved with Careers, she would need to make an example of her.

 _She wasn't going to._ Clarke's silence was only telling one thing to everyone watching at home; the Careers weren't shit. They could do whatever they wanted, but that didn't mean they were any better than the other districts.

 _They wouldn't make an example of her._ With her silence, she was making Ontari and Cage look weak. Their torture on her was made to look like child's play.

 _Even though Clarke felt like she was on the brink of unconsciousness, she knew she had to stay strong._ She had to stay awake and she had to stay silent.

Ontari stepped back from her, sweat covering her forehead. She tossed the knife backwards into the grass without much thought. She looked thrilled and more alive than ever in that moment.

Clarke mustered up the last of her strength and smiled. She could feel her lip split further, sending more blood spilling down her chin. With Clarke's defiance, Ontari's joy disappeared. She swung her hand back and punched Clarke once again in the gut, whisking her breath away.

The pain was dulled, in a way. She was covered in her own blood and she could feel bruises blossoming along her body from where Ontari punched and slapped and cut her. There was so much pain that she didn't know which part of her body hurt the most.

Clarke knew she wasn't too injured and it was confusing. Why was Ontari putting so much work into hurting her, but still stayed away from anything that would kill her? She knew that she said she deserved a slow death, but her actions didn't make sense. She cut her, but not deep enough to cause any serious harm. Within minutes of being cut, the bleeding already stopped. She punched her, but never enough to cause any internal damage.

She even stayed away from all of the most painful parts of the body. She _knew_ Ontari would've known exactly which parts of the body were most sensitive, yet she didn't target those.

If she didn't know any better, she would've thought that Ontari was keeping her alive and keeping her awake. If she didn't know any better, she would've guessed that she was saving the worst for later.

"Why don't you just kill me?" Clarke asked, her voice raspy. Ontari glanced over her shoulder, a twisted smile on her face.

"You don't get that pleasure just yet," she said, her voice light. "Besides, like I said, this was never really about you."

 _This was never really about you._

Clarke's heart completely stopped at that.

 _This was not about her._

Things started to fit together for Clarke. They never really cared about _her_ – they only ever cared about Bellamy and Octavia. Yet they were hunting for her during the Games – she heard it when they were talking to Luna.

And she was being kept alive. Ontari hadn't hurt her enough to ensure a slow death like she promised Clarke – so far, she hadn't even come close to that. Was this a cat playing with the mouse right before it killed it? Was this a predator playing with its prey?

 _Or was it something more?_

Clarke's heart began racing in her chest when she finally put the final piece together.

She was being kept alive.

Ontari wasn't killing her slowly. She was torturing her and making her bleed and trying to break her, but she wasn't trying to kill her. If she was, she would've cut a large artery by now. If she was, she wouldn't be backing down.

She wanted her alive. _She wanted her breathing and screaming and broken._

A piece of cool metal wrapped around her neck from behind her, making her jump. She tried to rip her wrist out of her restraint to protect her neck, but she couldn't. She looked around, panic filling her.

Cage stood behind her as he did up a collapse at the back of the metal hanging around her neck. As soon as he let it drop to her skin, she realized in horror what it was.

It was a collar. _A shock collar._

"He won't come," Clarke promised, her eyes meeting hers once again. For the first time since she had been taken by the Careers, she felt her limbs go numb from sheer fear.

That was the only reason why Clarke was being kept alive. If this was never about her; it had to be about him. _It was always about him._

It was always about Bellamy and she was just the bait.

"He won't." She shook her head. As she connected the final pieces, she tried desperately to make Ontari stop. She knew the shock collar wouldn't kill her, but she doubted she could keep a hold on her silence with it on. "I… I haven't seen Bellamy in days. I don't know where he is."

Ontari twirled her knife in her hands. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. The Blake seems to have a certain _fondness_ for you, hm?" She smiled. "I'm sure he'll come running if he can hear you scream."

She shook her head again. "You're wrong. Our alliance split. He's not coming for me." She blew a stray hair out of her face. " _Bellamy won't come_."

"We'll see," she promised. She didn't look too bothered by the prospect of Bellamy not showing up. "And if I'm wrong, then this wouldn't be for nought." She tilted her head. "We still have you."

* * *

 **WARNINGS: character death, blood, and torture**

* * *

 **Just for clarification: Ontari and Cage are torturing Clarke to bring Bellamy out of hiding. They want to kill Bellamy and Octavia out of both revenge and also to show the future Career tributes that pulling stunts like the Blakes will only get them killed. As Luna mentioned in the previous chapter, Bellamy and Octavia not joining the Career pack and showing that tributes can be contenders and be strong, and still have compassion is changing the game. I hope that makes sense, and explains the motivations behind the Career pack!**

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter. If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 4 Male: Cage  
 **District 4 Female: Luna** **  
**District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **(I can't believe how short this list is getting. Oh my goodness.)**

 **Thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated!**

 **Paw**


	44. Chapter 44: Dream of Me

**This chapter is shorter than usual, but I felt like the ending was a good place to cut it.**

 **This chapter contains darker themes than usual. If you'd like to read the warnings, they are at the bottom author notes of this chapter. Please be aware they contain spoilers. If you have any questions/concerns, please feel free to reach out to me.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 44: Dream of Me**

* * *

 _Day 11 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke's throat was on fire from her screams. She could feel blood flowing past her fingertips from where her nails cut into the flesh of her palm. Bruises had formed around her ankles and wrists from where she thrashed around, pulling at her restraints.

The skin around her neck had been burned and she could already feel blisters starting to develop. Every slight movement _hurt_ like nothing she had ever felt before. Even breathing was a challenge.

Clarke's head lulled forward, her eyes closing abruptly. She willed her shoulders to relax the tension they carried. She slowed her breathing, attempting to replicate even breaths she knew she had when she was asleep.

While she knew being knocked out wasn't synonymous with sleeping, she was betting on the fact Ontari and Cage didn't know.

They had been torturing her for hours – first with water, and then with Ontari's punches and knife, and then with the shock collar. She was exhausted. Her vision was blurred around the edges. Everything hurt to move. She could taste blood in her mouth. Her muscles screamed _._

She had never felt pain quite like this before. More than a few times, she'd gotten injured, but not like this. She was fighting with _everything_ in her not to pass out. She was fighting with everything in her to keep her chest rising and falling.

Clarke wanted to keep silent, but she had failed at that. As soon as what felt like an eternity passed with torture from the shock collar, she couldn't do it anymore.

 _She screamed._

Her throat felt like it had been ripped to shreds by the intensity and frequency of her yells. Her lip had split open _again_ from how much she screamed.

She couldn't help it. With all of the thoughts in her head being burnt away by the electrical shocks rolling through her, she couldn't think of a clear reason why she should remain silent. She didn't have any energy to hold back anymore.

 _Even the strong break sometimes._ It didn't make her weak – it made her _human._

Now, with her chin touching her chest and her hands hanging limply behind her, she hoped they would stop.

 _Please. No more._

She didn't beg them. _She wouldn't give them that pleasure._ They would _never_ see her beg.

But she begged silently in her mind. _Please. Stop. We're all human. We're all just children._

"Wait," Cage said sharply. "She passed out."

"So?"

"So, don't press that damn button, Ontari," he snapped. Clarke heard clothing rustle from what she could only assume was Cage ripping the controls for the shock collar from her hands. "She's not any use to us when she's not awake."

Clarke remembered to keep her body from tensing up as she felt someone approach her. Their body blocked the sun briefly, casting a cool shadow over her. She relished in the relief it gave her, even though she knew it was only temporary.

It must've been close to evening, from what she could guess. She had absolutely no clue how long it had been since she woke up in the middle of the field – it had been hours. Was that even humanly possible – to withstand torture of some sort for that long of time?

Maybe she _had_ passed out before and she never realized it.

She bit down hard on her tongue when hands wrapped around her neck. She was proud when she didn't flinch or show any other signs that she was impacted by these touches, whoever they were from.

The collar around her neck slid off with a click and the hands were gone from around her neck. She grimaced when the wind hit her newly exposed skin. She felt like she might throw up from the pain.

"I'm making a trip to the Cornucopia," Ontari said after a beat of silence. "Stay here and _watch her,_ okay?"

"Screw off, Ontari," he snapped. She could already hear his voice coming from behind her. Clarke could envision him walking towards the pile of supplies they had. Why Ontari needed to go to the Cornucopia when they had half of the supplies already was beyond her. "I'm not an idiot."

"I beg to differ." Ontari's voice was fading away too. "Don't screw up."

"I hope you die," he called after her. Clarke had a hard time deciding if he was joking or being serious. Knowing Ontari, he was probably being serious.

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you, asshole."

Clarke held her breath and waited for Ontari's footsteps to fade. When she couldn't hear them anymore, she sucked in a deep breath and slowly opened her eye.

With Ontari being gone, this would be the perfect time for her to make her escape. She couldn't sit here any longer – she didn't know how much torture she could take. She didn't want to be used in their plan. She didn't want Bellamy and Octavia to somehow be drawn to their camp because she was there. She needed to get out and hide somewhere – anywhere.

Now, all she had to worry about was Cage. Even though it was only one tribute and he was a lot less lethal than Ontari, he still trained his whole life to go to the Games. He had trained since he was a child in fighting and killing.

She couldn't underestimate him. She had to do this carefully if she was going to survive the day.

Clarke twisted her hand around in the restraint, biting the inside of her cheek when the ropes rubbed against her already broken skin. She had to force tears back as she moved slowly.

Just as her fingers hooked onto an end of the rope, she froze.

"Bitch," Cage muttered, much closer to her than before. Clarke instantly slammed her eyes shut and hoped he didn't see that she was awake.

She listened intently as he walked back around to the front of her and stop. She was tempted to open her eyes and face him, but she didn't.

 _Play the long game._

He walked back around to the supplies pile and began moving items around – no doubt looking for something to drink. Clarke had no idea how hot it was that day, but she could feel her body burning from being in the exposed sun for too long.

She had to work fast. While he was busy with the supplies and Ontari away, she could get out.

First, she had to get her restraints off. _But then what?_

Clarke opened her eyes again. Just like she remembered, Ontari's knife was still laying in the grass from when she dropped it after torturing her. If she could get the ropes off her hands, she could make it to the knife and attack Cage.

Was she ready to attack Cage? Probably not. Even when she was fully rested, he was more trained than her. The only reason she scored better than him in the assessments was because she had knowledge in medicine. That wouldn't help her here.

She'd have to rely on luck and the element of surprise. That's what they did with Luna, anyways. Even with a wound infected and with her life slipping away, she was an even match for Ontari. The only way they managed to kill her was by stabbing her in the back – literally.

It was terrible and horrifying to even think about, but she couldn't help but day dream about pouring poison through his lips. She knew he was the one to shoot arrows at her alliance during the ambush at the apartments. Murphy was hit with one of those arrows. He _died_ from one of those arrows.

It wasn't enough just to say die, either. He suffered. He didn't have a peaceful death. He was in pain and he suffered right up to the last second.

She wanted Cage to suffer like that. Gods, she felt like a terrible person for even thinking it. _But she wanted that._ He caused so much pain and suffering for her friends – he killed so many of them.

 _Charlotte. Monty. Lincoln. Raven. Murphy. Luna._

He hurt Octavia. He wanted to hurt Bellamy. If the rumors were true, he experimented on humans back home.

 _He was a monster._

She knew she had to kill him quickly. She didn't know when Ontari was going to return and she needed to be long gone at that point. If she was headed back into the city, she would have to run into the forest and make her way somewhere safe. Maybe she would head west, to the river Luna told her about. She didn't know how to swim, but neither did Ontari.

Clarke could hear Cage digging in the supplies again. Deciding she didn't have a second to waste, her hands twisted to give her fingers access to the rope around her wrists. It was excruciating to rub her raw wrists against the rope, but she knew if she didn't work through this pain, the pain to follow would be much worse.

She never was good at rope tying. During training, it was Raven who was good at it. She couldn't tie a knot to save her life and Raven had sat patiently with her, teaching her the same knots over and over.

For what felt like the thousandth time, she was thankful for Raven. It was because of her lessons at the knot station that Clarke recognized the knot that bound her wrists. It was because of Raven that Clarke managed to loosen the ropes enough to slip out of them.

As soon as they were free, she flexed and rolled them, wincing once again. She glanced behind her quickly, checking to make sure Cage wasn't watching her.

He was facing the opposite direction; his back to her. _Perfect._ He was obviously distracted with something, as he was swearing under his breath and on his knees.

Clarke leaned down and began to work on the rope around her ankles. The world tilted before her as she bent. She must've hit her head harder than she thought. Or maybe it was heat exhaustion. Or maybe it was from the pain.

Clarke didn't know. She didn't really care. All she cared about was keeping herself together long enough to get herself out of the Career camp and to somewhere safe. Only once she was safe would she worry about her injuries.

And only then, she would start to worry about Bellamy and Octavia. She couldn't bare to do it before then. She couldn't let her mind wander to them, or worry about them, or think about how she wanted to be with him.

She let the ropes drop to the grass as she undid the knots. It was easier to untie those ones, considering she could see what she was doing. Luna was right; Cage was shit at everything he tried. Shouldn't the knots that bound her be nearly perfect, considering he came from a district focused on knots and boating?

That gave her a flicker of hope. Maybe killing him would be easier than she feared.

When she was free, she glanced back at Cage. He was still distracted and at the pile of weapons.

She decided moving slowly and quietly would be the best course of action. Even if she moved quickly after making a sound, he would be given the upper hand. If she was quiet until she stabbed him, she would at least be given an advantage.

At least, that was the plan.

As soon as she stood up from the chair she had been tied onto, her legs gave out. She didn't realize just how exhausted she was. After hours of grueling torture, she shouldn't have been surprised that she couldn't stand on her own two feet.

The chair toppled over as she fell to the ground, creating a sound loud enough to catch Cage's attention. It was almost like the world was in slow motion as he spun around to face her.

They locked eyes.

Clarke's heart was hammering in her chest. She didn't know where the bout of energy came from – she hadn't slept or rested properly in days – but she wasn't going to complain. Her body came alive as her primal instincts took over.

 _Fight or flight._

She knew what she had to do. She knew she couldn't run faster than him – not in the condition her body was in. She couldn't really fight either, but it was the best option she had.

Cage jumped up from the ground and began charging towards her, murder in his eyes. Clarke scrambled from where she had fallen, climbing towards the knife only a few feet away from her. Her arms and legs refused to work properly as she dragged herself towards the weapon.

She stretched for it, straining with everything in her. When she felt the cool metal on her fingertips, she was flooded with relief.

It was short lived.

Cage was on her, pushing her arm into the ground. The knife slipped out from between her fingers as both of her wrists were pinned to the grass below them. She couldn't see him – she couldn't see anything. His knee was digging into her upper back, pushing her face into the soil under her.

Oh gods, this was how she was going to die. With a monster on top of her, her hands pinned to the ground, her body humming with pain.

Clarke let out a strangled cry when his hand pushed her head into the ground harder. She turned her face to the side, allowing herself to breathe. It was harder than it sounded, with majority of Cage's body weight on top of her. Her lungs felt heavy. Her mouth tasted like mud.

She tried kicking him, but he knew it was coming and wasn't anywhere near her legs. She swung at air, over and over. Panic was rising up in her, making the blood rush through her ears. She could barely hear her grunts as she tried to wiggle her arms free.

He wasn't budging. It was both a curse and a blessing. This way, she was keeping him occupied enough that he couldn't reach for a weapon to kill her with. But it also meant she was starting to see stars in her eyes from the lack of oxygen.

Then, his weight was off of her. She took in a lung full of air and pushed off the ground, moving towards the knife only feet away. He got to it before her.

She was on her knees now, gasping for breath and trying to keep from getting sick. He was towering above her, the damn knife in his hand.

It was a picture that made the last sliver of hope inside of her vanish. He had the knife – the only weapon she could reach for. He wasn't injured. He was better trained. His eyes were burning with hatred, his lip curled back.

 _She was going to die._

It wasn't a question anymore. This was it. This was how she was going to go.

 _Screw it._ If she was going to die, then she was going to go out fighting.

With a scream, Clarke pushed off the ground and threw herself towards Cage. Her shoulder connected with his torso, making him lose all the air in his lungs and double over. Her hand locked onto his wrist before he could swing the knife in her direction.

She didn't know where the energy came from. She blamed it on adrenaline. She didn't really care. All she knew was that she was moving.

While her shoulder was pressed against his chest and her one hand was locked around his wrist, her other hand was pressed against his face, keeping his teeth away from her body. His free arm was locked around her body, keeping her pressed against him. It was an endless struggle to push the other over.

Her feet were planted and her knees bent, just how Bellamy taught her. She wasn't going to be moved unless he managed to muster more force than what he was using then.

Her thumb dug into a weak point of his wrist. She used whatever strength she had left to push on it, willing it to be enough for him to drop his knife.

When he let out a strangled cry, she knew what she was doing was working. She pressed harder, letting out a cry of her own. _Please be enough._

When the knife dropped from his hand, she could've cried with relief.

Instead, she channeled her new energy into knocking him down.

She remembered her first fight. It was back during training still, when she fought against the training assistant in the ring. She was in a similar position back then, with their bodies close together and her arms with no use.

She managed to knock that guy down then. _She was going to do the same now._

Clarke hooked her ankle around Cage's lower leg, preventing him from stumbling backwards to regain her balance. Then, she pushed him away from her with her whole upper body. With a strong shove to his chest, he went stumbling backwards, smashing right into the ground.

She wasted no time to dive on top of him. Her legs were on top of his chest and her hands wrapped around his wrists, pinning them to his sides.

It didn't last long. His fingers dug into her raw wrists, making her vision swim. Then, she was on her back, his knee on her stomach. Unlike last time, his hand was wrapped around her throat, sending shocks of pain through her.

She couldn't breathe. _Oh gods she couldn't breathe._ Clarke's hands flew up to his own and clawed, desperate to pull them away. She could feel her head pounding – from what, she wasn't too sure.

They locked eyes.

It reminded her that he was human. A monster, but human. Couldn't he see she was human too? Couldn't he see that she was just a girl trying to get home?

Her vision was swimming. Her lungs were burning. The heels of her feet dug into the grass and she pushed, desperate to climb away from him.

Then, just as suddenly as he was on her, an arrow protruding from his shoulder. He was stunned. While his knee was still pressed into her stomach, he wasn't putting his weight on it. His hands were no longer against her neck. Instead, they shook and were covered in blood as he gingerly touched his shoulder.

His eyes were wide as he glanced down at himself, almost like he didn't believe he was shot. Clarke couldn't believe he was shot either.

She didn't have time to contemplate it.

She pushed him off of her and lunged for the knife at her feet. As she reached for it, she kicked Cage right in the jaw, sending him tumbling backwards. She could feel his jaw crack under her foot and he let out a howl of pain.

He landed in the grass for the second time, giving Clarke the upper hand. Instead of jumping back up like the first time, he lay in the grass, his body motionless. He was screaming, too. She hoped it was from a broken jaw, but she would accept the cause as the arrow. She didn't care. She wanted him dead.

This time, the knife was in her hand as she climbed on him. Her knee dug into his ribs and her one free wrist held his good hand under his body.

As he looked at her, he looked more panicked than she had ever seen him. His eyes were wide and his chin was trembling, like he was seconds away from crying. He was covered in a mix of their blood. The grass was stained red from his wound.

They locked eyes again.

"Clarke, please!" His words were jumbled from his broken jaw, but she still understood. _He was begging her for mercy._

She pushed the knife into his neck, just like she did with Atom all those nights ago.

This time, she didn't hum to him as he died. She didn't hold his hand or try to comfort him. She wasn't crying either.

Cage's eyes went wide. His body stilled completely; she could feel him go rigid beneath her. They locked eyes for one final time.

She yanked the knife from his neck. Blood soaked the grass beneath him.

She scrambled off of him, her heart thudding in her chest. She pushed backwards, sliding across the grass, until she was a safe distance away from him.

She watched as his hand flew up to clutch pointlessly at his neck. The blood easily flowed from between his fingers. He was sputtering too. She was convinced he was trying to scream, but couldn't.

 _Clarke could only watch._

He shuddered several times as the warm blood left this body. His breathing was raspy, but quickly turned to gasps. And then –

 _Nothing._

Her heart was racing in her chest and her head was spinning when he took his last breath. He exhaled one last time – all the air leaving his lungs with a whoosh – and that was it. _He was dead._

She jumped when the canon sounded. She didn't need the canon to confirm what she already knew, though.

 _He was dead._

He died.

Cage was dead.

Her mind seemed to be stuck on a constant loop as she stared at his body, mere feet away from her.

 _She killed him._

She'd killed people before – sure. She had done the exact same thing to Atom only weeks ago.

 _But this was different._

For Atom, it was out of mercy. It was because he asked her to, to save himself from more suffering. She did it because he was an innocent that was thrown into the arena.

With Cage, she killed him because she needed to survive. She killed him, but it wasn't for mercy and it wasn't out of the kindness of her heart.

 _She murdered him._

With that thought, she rolled onto her side and threw up. She didn't know what was left in her stomach to come up, but it burned her throat and nose. She barely registered it as it happened. _She was so tired._

It was only when she was on her forearms, her mouth tasting like acid, did she remember what happened during the fight. An arrow came out of nowhere, embedding itself into Cage's shoulder.

 _That arrow saved her._

 _Whoever shot that arrow saved her._

She could barely stay upright as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her vision was blurry and her breathing shallow as she looked around. She felt like she was seconds away from passing out, but she clung onto consciousness.

 _There._

She could see him running towards her. He looked better than she remembered him looking. Maybe this really was her imagination. Maybe she passed out long ago from the torture, and this was all a dream.

 _It must've been._

There was no way Bellamy Blake was racing across the field to her.

She didn't have time to think about it. She was on the ground before he ever reached her.

* * *

 **WARNING: violence, blood/gore, character death, describing injuries, torture**

* * *

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter. If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
 **District 4 Male: Cage** **  
**District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thanks for reading! We're getting down to the final few chapters now and I can't wait to share them all with you! Does anyone have any predictions as to what will happen? I adore reading predictions.**

 **Reviews are appreciated!**

 **Paw**


	45. Chapter 45: From the Head and the Heart

**I got behind with updating this fic here! Sorry!**

 **Woo! Finally, we are almost out of that angst-fest. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 45: From the Head and the Heart**

* * *

 _Day 12 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke woke up feeling better than she had in ages. She was sore all over, like she had just come from an intense workout, but she'd felt worse. A headache was looming, but it was nothing compared to what she used to get during exam season back home.

Her eyes snapped open, suddenly feeling terrified as things came back to her. It was dark, wherever she was. It smelled like wet grass and mouldy leaves, too. Her body was frozen as she tried to piece together what was happening.

How was it possible that she was safe? The last thing she remembered was being tied up under the sun and being tortured for hours by Cage and Ontari. She remembered pretending to pass out. She remembered wiggling out of her ties and fighting Cage.

 _Cage._ She killed him. She could still feel his blood running over her fingers. She could still hear his pleas just before she stabbed him.

She couldn't remember anything after that. She could've sworn she passed out in the middle of the field.

Did Ontari find her and Cage's dead body? She must've rushed back to camp as soon as she heard the canon go off – she wasn't stupid. Clarke would've been passed out beside Cage's body.

Why didn't she kill her? Better yet, why didn't she follow through with her plan of teaching all future Careers a lesson? Why wasn't she tied up, waiting for Bellamy to come rushing to save her?

 _Bellamy._

Clarke's heart stopped in her chest as she remembered the last thing she seen before passing out. It made her heart ache, knowing that she was hallucinating. She hallucinated Bellamy running towards her.

That would've been a nice reality, though. It would've been nice for Bellamy to have saved her from whatever fate Ontari had planned for her.

Clarke turned her head to the side and stifled a groan. _Maybe the headache was worse than she thought._

As soon as she made a sound, shuffling came from by her feet. The pain disappeared as adrenaline filled her system once again. Her hand flew to her holster, where she kept her sword.

 _She wasn't wearing a holster._

That realization stopped Clarke's heart. She _always_ wore the holster – every day for the last eleven days. She hadn't taken it off once, other than when she almost died in the pond.

Luckily, she didn't need her sword. She was pulled into a very familiar embrace – one that Clarke had felt many times before.

She didn't need to see her face to know who it was. "Octavia." She breathed her name alongside a sigh of relief.

Clarke wrapped her arms around Octavia's shoulders, clinging to the younger girl like her life depended on it. As the adrenaline bled out of her system, she was left shaking and close to tears.

 _This must be a dream._ She must've died, or she must be hallucinating. This couldn't be real.

 _But it was real._ She knew it had to be real – her mind wouldn't have been able to imagine something this good.

"Clarke." Octavia pulled back a few inches to stare at her. It was so good to see her. She was safe, and she was her home. "I'm so glad you're awake, _oh my god_."

"I- I don't…" Clarke rubbed her forehead. "What happened? Is Bellamy okay?"

"What happened?" Octavia pulled away from her completely. She caught sight of unshed tears in her eyes. Clarke knew it was a mirror of her. Her throat was burning from trying to keep them at bay. "What happened is that we thought we lost you." Octavia let out a soft laugh before pulling Clarke in for another hug.

She rested her head in the crook of her neck, more than happy to be held by someone she felt safe around. While hugs from Octavia were rare, this was home, in a sense. This was safe. This was familiar.

 _She lived._

Clarke could've sobbed. She survived the hell Ontari and Cage put her through. She survived being hunted by them. She survived living on her own in the arena for a handful of days.

 _She was alive._

For a moment, she could've sworn that she was going to die. All of the hope had bled out of her. Cage had his hands wrapped around her throat, choking the life out of her. She had been covered in her own blood. Her wrists had been scraped until they were bruised. Her neck was blistered. Her head had been gushing blood.

She knew she was going to die. She was injured and she was surrounded by two brutal tributes who wanted her dead. She had no hope of escape and she had no hope of being able to fight them off.

Clarke's hands left Octavia's back and moved up to gingerly touch her neck. She braced herself for a wave of intense pain from the burns, but it never came.

 _What the hell?_

Clarke pulled away from Octavia and touched her neck more solidly. There was the faint hum of pain there, but it was nothing compared to what it was before she passed out.

She locked eyes with the younger Blake. An eerie feeling was descending on her, making her feel like her head was in the clouds. She didn't know what happened. She didn't know anything. She was lost with reality. "What's going on? Where are we?"

"We're west of the Cornucopia, just outside the city," Octavia said slowly. She was watching Clarke grasp her neck warily. "I wouldn't touch too much if I were you. You're still healing."

"Healing?" she echoed. "I should be dead. Or… Or in pain, at least." Her hand moved to touch the side of her head. While it was still crisp with blood, she couldn't feel the gash that was there from Cage's sword. "Octavia?"

"We have sponsors," she explained. "Well… You do. Or us. I don't know. We got a few packages once we got you back here. One was from Diyoza, one was from your mentor. Kane, right?"

Clarke could have cried at hearing his name. She hadn't heard from him since the start of the arena. She didn't know him well, but he was from her home, and he was one of the few people she trusted. It was odd, feeling so emotional over someone she didn't really know.

"Yes."

"Well, they contributed something. Medicine." Octavia reached to the left of Clarke, lifting up a small drawstring bag. "Here. You'll probably be able to tell more about it than me. As soon as we got it, I put whatever I could on you and hoped for the best."

Clarke took the bag from Octavia and peered inside. She instantly recognized a bottle of ointment – that was the same type that Luna carried with her. It was antibacterial, just like hers was. And beside that was a needle with a label across it.

She didn't have to read it to know what it was. It was the same medicine that sponsors sent Murphy and Octavia at the start of the Games. After quickly glancing at the label to double check, she knew it was the exact same stuff.

She remembered how fast it worked on Murphy and Octavia. The cell regeneration properties it had saved their lives.

"We had two doses of that," Octavia said, breaking the silence. "Your head was bad, so that's where we used the first dose. And the second one, we put that in your abdomen. I didn't know what was wrong with it. It was bruised and I was worried there were some internal bleeds."

Clarke lifted an eyebrow. "You know first-aid?"

"Not much. But I know enough from training injuries over the years." She bumped Clarke's shoulder. It was done with an ease that struck Clarke. This was oddly normal. It felt like she'd always known Octavia in that moment; that they were just two friends joking around. "That, and I'm not stupid."

Clarke lifted up her shirt, which was so covered in blood that it was nearly disgusting. Her stomach was dotted with yellow and faded bruises. She knew it was from when Cage pressed his knee into her. She was terrified of what they must've looked like before she was given the medicine.

 _They. Bellamy._

She quickly pushed those thoughts aside, desperate to keep her mind off of him. There were so many emotions there, it was hard to think about without getting tangled. It was easier to keep running – at least for now.

"What day is it?" Clarke pulled down her shirt. "It's still the eleventh day, right? Night time?"

Octavia watched her closely. "It's the twelfth day, actually, but you're right about the time. You slept close to a day."

" _What_?"

"You were in and out of sleep – especially near the beginning, with the pain. I doubt you remember." She was right. She didn't remember it at all. "Once we got the cell regeneration stuff in you, you started to sleep more."

Clarke wet her lips. She noticed how Octavia avoided the question earlier, but she was dying to know. _She needed to know._

"You keep saying 'we,'" Clarke pointed out. She couldn't bring herself to meet her eyes. "Does that mean… Bellamy? He's okay?"

After she spoke the words, it felt like all the air got sucked from her lungs. The air was thick with tension and the time seemed to creep by.

Clarke was half convinced Octavia didn't hear her because her response was taking so long.

After what felt like an eternity, she squeezed her hand. "He's fine."

Relief crashed against Clarke. She felt tears well up in her eyes and her chest tighten. She thought she lost him. She didn't think she would ever see him again. _She had so much she needed to tell him._ She wanted to hold him and never let go – not ever again.

"He's foraging right now, actually. So far, he's managed to bring back grass, since that's the easiest to identify as non-poisonous. It's enough though."

She was shaking, she wanted to see him so badly. _And she was nervous too._ Did he even want to talk to her? Would he forgive her for leaving?

 _Run._

So, she did. She continued to run from those thoughts. It was easier than dealing with the pain.

"Who's still alive?"

"You didn't miss anything," she promised her. "It's just you, me, Bellamy, Ontari, Echo, and the boy from District 10."

"Dax." Clarke remembered Ontari saying his name when she was hunting Luna. "That's the male from 10. Apparently he isn't too bright."

"You've seen him?"

"No." She grimaced. "But… Shit. I don't know where to start."

Clarke realized just how much had happened since she last seen the two Blakes. She became sort-of-allies with Luna, she watched her get murdered, and she was attacked and tortured by the remaining Careers.

"Gods, I've missed you." Octavia pulled her in for another hug. "After we lost Monty, Raven, Murphy, and Lincoln, I was broken. They were friends and they were gone." She pulled away from the hug. "And then we lost you, too. I was so upset – with everyone. With Bellamy. With the Careers." She pressed her lips together. "I couldn't believe I lost everyone that day. _We_ lost everyone."

Clarke's throat was tight and her stomach felt hallow. "I'm sorry for leaving."

Octavia squeezed her hand. "I know why you did. I don't blame you for doing that. You needed to go. You needed space." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Clarke. They were your allies. You chose them for your alliance and they all… they're all gone now. I'm so sorry."

Clarke tried to ignore the way her chest stung. It was difficult to speak. "It wasn't your fault."

"But I wasn't there to help you mourn."

Clarke grimace. "That wasn't your fault either, O." _That was on her. She was the one who left._

"I thought I'd never see you again. Bellamy thought he'd never see you again." Octavia's face fell. Clarke's heart lurched at hearing his name. She wondered if he missed her, if he mourned for her like she mourned for him. "I'm sure he'll tell you all about it – he's the storyteller – but _gods_ he was a mess. He's _still_ a mess."

Her throat felt tight from hearing his name. She had so many regrets, and leaving him was one of them.

"When you first got back, I…" Octavia's face was twisted with an emotion she hadn't seen before. " _We_ didn't know if you'd live. It was bad. _It looked bad._ " She could only imagine. While her wounds were healed, the remains of her injuries were left across her body. "He hasn't been able to leave your side. I had to force him out." At least with this statement, the corners of her lips twitched up.

Clarke forced words through her mouth. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"It should be anytime now. He's only gone down to the river. That's not far away." Octavia smiled once at Clarke before standing up and moving across the cave. As she began digging through a backpack, Clarke examined her, trying to keep her thoughts away from Bellamy and what was to come.

"You're looking better."

She turned to face her. "Yeah. I am." She patted her torso, where a gaping wound was only a week before. "I'm still not completely healed, but I'm getting there." She pulled out a bottle of water from the bag. "That's why Bellamy was the only one to come get you from the Careers. I wanted to go – _hell, I really wanted to go –_ but he didn't want me there." She wrinkled her nose.

Seeing the water reminded her of how thirsty she was. She was sure the Blakes managed to get her to drink water while she was passed out, but she had been so dehydrated for so long that it wasn't enough.

Octavia handed her the bottle. "Don't worry about saving. We're close to a river, so we have plenty of water to come. Drink what you need."

Clarke downed the bottle. She almost forgot how good it felt to have fresh water run down the back of her throat.

"You told me you were going to talk about what you've been up to," Octavia reminded her as soon as she was done drinking. "You-"

Her voice died as soon as she caught sight of something near the entrance to the cave. Clarke lifted her eyes, her heart pounding. She didn't need to see what caused Octavia to freeze; she already knew who was standing there.

 _Bellamy._

Her heart gave a painful lurch when she seen him. The first thing she noticed was how tired he looked. His eyes were red rimmed and his face looked long. His right hand was wrapped in gaze that was dotted with red blood, but it was still clutched around his sword.

Her heart had completely stopped at that point. It felt like all the air in her lungs had turned to dust. She couldn't breathe.

 _He was here. He was alive. He was okay._

She wanted to say something – to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him that she regretted leaving. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him, and how she thought about him while she was gone.

 _But she couldn't._

It felt like she had been dunked back into the pond all those days ago. She was petrified; her body refused to move, her mind refused to work, her voice was trapped somewhere inside her.

 _Bellamy was here._

Awkward silence consumed the three of them. Octavia's eyes locked on the ground below her, clearly wanting to stay out of the situation. His eyes were burning with intensity as he stared at her, his face completely unreadable.

Finally, Octavia got up from the ground and dusted off her pants. Clarke half expected her to make some joke, but she didn't. She pushed past Bellamy, with a mumbled, "I'll be outside."

That left her and Bellamy alone, for the first time in days.

Her heart ached. He looked so tired and so defeated. His shoulders were hunched forward and his face was crestfallen. _And he was injured._ Gods, he was injured. Seeing his hand wrapped and covered in blood made her chest constrict.

What happened while she was gone?

It didn't really matter in that moment. All she wanted was to tell him how sorry she was. She wanted to tell him that she was wrong. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms again and ask him for forgiveness for leaving.

 _She needed to be with him._ So many things had changed over the last few days, but she hoped with her whole heart that _they_ didn't change. She hoped that he would still look at her like he used to – like they were two normal people. She hoped he would treat her like he used to. It would break her heart if he decided to be distant, or if they had changed.

She needed to be beside him. Fuck pain. Screw anyone who tried to stop her. _She was getting to him._ She needed to.

Clarke tried to push off the ground, but let out a strangled gasp as she did, the wounds along her body lighting on fire again.

Bellamy was beside her in an instant, his hands hovering over her by a few inches. His eyes were looking anywhere except hers, but she could see them filled with tears. Just seeing the heartbroken look etched on his face made her heart break too.

She broke.

" _Bellamy_ ," she sobbed, already reaching for him.

He moved the rest of the way to her. His arms were gentle around her, almost like he was a ghost. He was reserved as she hugged him. It made more tears come to her eyes.

He was holding back; he was holding her like she was broken. This wasn't what she needed in that moment. _She wanted Bellamy._ She wanted his strong grasp that she'd grown to adore, she wanted his face buried in her hair, she wanted to feel his hands along her back.

 _This wasn't home._

"Bellamy," she sobbed again, her chest feeling like it could crack open from the pain.

 _I missed you. I regret everything. I need you. I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry._

"Clarke."

With that one simple world, it felt like her remaining walls shattered. She clutched at him and sobbed.

She didn't think she would ever hear him say her name again. She didn't think she would ever be wrapped in his arms again.

"I'm here," he said, his voice close to her ear. She used all of her strength to grip onto him. He must've realized she wasn't as broken as he was afraid; his arms had tightened around her, holding her closer.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she said, her voice broken. She let out a sob that shook her body. "I wish I never would've left." Bellamy's arms tightened around her frame. It felt like he was holding her together, piece by piece. "I never thought I'd see you again."

He didn't reply. He just held her, his face pressed into the crook of her neck. Her sobs slowly died down alongside the shock of him being here and being alive. Her heart was still heavy, but, for now, that darkness was pushed to the side.

 _All that mattered was him._

Her fingers were threaded into his curls and her nose pressed against his neck. His hands were secured around her body and, for the first time in days, things felt okay.

He shifted his weight so he was leaning up against the wall. Clarke tried to push herself closer to him, but ended up gasping from the way her body twisted.

Bellamy froze. She could feel the tension in him. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice cautious.

She readjusted how she was leaning and she felt the pain subside. When she looked at him, her smile was no longer forced. "No."

His worrisome expression didn't disappear. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." For the first time in days, this wasn't a lie. _She did feel okay,_ at least for a little bit.

She couldn't describe what she was feeling in that moment. She was overjoyed that he was there – that he was alive. She didn't think she'd ever see him again. Gods, she hoped, _she really hoped,_ but it felt impossible.

And, now that they were together again, she couldn't stop thinking about the guilt. _She left him._ When they needed each other, she left him.

Almost like he could read her thoughts, his lips pressed against the crown of her head. Warmth flooded her body.

 _She missed this._ She missed being wrapped up in him, she missed sharing intimate moments, she missed how calm he made her feel. She missed everything about him; his brightness, his hope, his heart.

"I never thought I'd see you again either," he admitted after a moment. "When you left…" He shook his head.

"I wish I stayed."

"I wish you did, too," he responded. "I understand why you left though, Clarke," he said. "Losing them… it was terrible. _It is terrible."_ She could hear how pained he was from his voice. She didn't need see him to see the heartbreak – she could feel it radiating through him. "I loved them. They were my family."

"We were a family," Clarke echoed. It hurt to use the past tense.

"Losing them all at once was worse than a nightmare. It was worse than anything I could've imagined." She could feel his swallow thickly. "And then, I lost you." A wave of guilt hit her.

 _I'm sorry._

 _I regret it._

"When you left, I was broken. _I was so fucking broken._ I needed you. I missed you." He paused. Clarke's heart was clenched with pain. "I understand you needed time to heal, I really do, Clarke." His forehead leaned against her. "I don't hold it against you. I _know_ why you left, but all I kept wishing for was you."

"I regret it," she said immediately. "As soon as I left, I regretted it. Even as I was doing it, I was regretting it." Clarke gripped his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Bellamy. I should've been there for you." Her throat felt tight. "I needed you, too."

"We needed each other," he told her.

She tried to hold back the tears. _Gods,_ she regretted it so much. All she wanted was to be with him, to heal with him, to comfort him. "You're the only person I feel safe around. You're the only person I know that can comfort me. And I fucked up.

"I felt like I was a monster. I watched them die; Monty, Lincoln, Raven, Murphy. I couldn't do anything as they died. I- This wasn't the plan. I am supposed to help people. I'm supposed to save lives here. _And I didn't._ I couldn't.

"They were supposed to be the ones to live. Anyone of you. _Not me._ Never me – it was never supposed to be me that makes it to the final tributes. _And they died so I could live._

"I am a monster. Death just follows me around, killing anyone I care about. My dad, Wells, and now everyone else." She glanced at him. "It's just you and Octavia left. I never should've abandoned you. I never should have left. I'm sorry."

"You're not a monster," he insisted.

"I've done terrible things to survive. I've killed people." Her mouth felt dry. "I've killed people and never thought twice about it, Bellamy. I don't regret it either. I am a monster."

"I've killed people, too," he said. "We all have. We're all killers. Nobody is innocent, Clarke. There are no good guys. There's no such thing." His words hit her hard. _Maybe there are no good guys._ "You aren't to blame for what happened. You tried to save them. You wanted to save them."

"You did, too," she said, a lump rising in her throat. "I loved them, but so did you. You tried to save them just as much as I did." It felt like she was going to get sick. "I am so sorry for ever implying something different, Bellamy. _I am so sorry._ "

"Clarke-"

She shook her head. She needed him to hear this. "I was awful. I said terrible things – things I didn't mean. They aren't true, Bellamy. Those things that I said – they aren't true." She was crying again.

She wasn't begging him for forgiveness; she knew that she didn't deserve that. But she was begging for him to understand that she was wrong. She was hoping with everything in her that he didn't believe what she said; she hoped he didn't think that's how she viewed him.

"You didn't let Raven die, Bellamy. You didn't force her to make that decision and you didn't give her permission. I was wrong. You fought for her to come with us – you promised her we could think of another plan. I remember. You didn't give her up; you fought for her until the last second. I don't blame you for what happened."

She sucked in another breath. "And I understand why you pulled me off the roof, Bellamy. _I understand._ When Murphy died, I… I couldn't see past my hurt _and I am so sorry._ It isn't an excuse; you were hurting too. But, when he died, all I could think about how unfair it was that I was alive. All I could think about was how many times I would've given my life for theirs, yet I was the one to come out alive.

"I understand why you did it, because, if our positions were reversed, I would've done the same thing. I would've done anything to keep you safe because I'd rather you be alive than anything. I'd rather you be able to hate me than you be dead.

"I am so sorry for saying those things – for blaming you for things that were outside of your control. I am so sorry, Bellamy."

The more she talked, the more she remembered from that night. She remembered all of the hateful things she said; she remembered all the venom she spat at him. It made her skin crawl.

"I trust you. I've always trusted you, even when my mentor and my friends were telling me not to. _I always looked at you and seen home._ I've always looked at you and seen a friend; someone I could trust; someone I could love." Her heart lurched. _She cared about him so much._

"And I know you. I know you more than I know myself, sometimes. Even though we have known each other for such a short amount of time, _you_ are my person, Bellamy. You're my best friend. You're someone I can trust with anything. You're the person I turn to when things get dark, and you're the person I seek out when things are bright. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, because _you are my person."_

She didn't dare turn to look at Bellamy to gauge his reaction. She was afraid that if she seen his face, she wouldn't be able to say everything she wanted.

"I know you, Bellamy. I know you're a good man – a better man than anyone has ever given you credit for. You have such a big heart and so much love in your soul. You're fierce and have so much strength, and you are a spec of gold amongst the night sky." She finally turned to glance at him. "I know you Bellamy, and I love the person you are." She swallowed thickly. "I love you."

She didn't know where the words came from, but speaking them felt so right.

 _She loved him._ She'd known for a while now. She'd been trying so hard to convince herself that she was wrong; she tried to tell herself that she couldn't possibly be in love with him.

 _But she was._ It was as obvious as the sky was blue. Every time she thought about him, it felt like she was melting, or, maybe, like she was falling. She cared about him so much. He was often her last thought before she fell asleep, and usually the first thought when she woke up.

Simply put, he was her person. He was her home – he was her family.

Time didn't matter here. _She knew him._ She'd seen him covered in blood. She'd stood with him as they faced death. She'd been by his side as they mourned people they loved. She'd survived hell with him – and she would do it over and over again.

 _She loved him._

"I love you so fucking much, Clarke Griffin." He cupped his hand around her jaw again, his skin barely touching hers. It was an automatic response to lean into his touch.

Her heart stopped at his words. _He loved her, too._ It felt like she was going to combust or collapse from all of the emotions that hit her in that moment.

He moved forward then, pressing his lips to hers. It was a sweet kiss, one that seemed to steal the breath from her lungs and silence all her thoughts. His hand cupped the side of her face gently, like he was holding a bird in the palm of his hands.

Her hands lifted to rest against his chest. She felt his steady heartbeat and the warmth from under the thin shirt he wore.

 _He was alive._

 _He was here._

 _She loved him._

She shifted forward, desperate to get more of him. She needed to feel him in that moment – she needed to feel him alive. She thought she lost him, and now he was right there.

His arm wrapped around her waist to steady her and his thumb trailed down her jaw. Clarke nipped his lip and let out a soft breath of air.

He froze against her, his thumb pressed gently to her jaw. Their lips were barely apart; she could still feel them ghosting against hers. Their chests were heaving, like they had just run for miles. Her heart was racing the same way.

"Are you okay?" he mumbled, his voice vibrating against her chest, too. "I didn't hurt you?"

 _Oh._

It was the same question he asked earlier. _He was scared he was going to hurt her._

In that moment, Clarke realized that he was holding back. His touches were light, while hers were desperate. His kisses were like feathers, while she longed for something deeper. He was afraid she would break from his grasp, that he would hurt her from loving her.

"You'll never hurt me," she told him, her voice breathy. "I want this, Bell. I want you."

His forehead moved to rest against hers. She could feel, rather than see, his smile. His thumb continued the path towards her neck, leaving a trail of fire and goose bumps.

"You'll tell me if I hurt you?"

 _You won't._ She knew he would never hurt her – not on purpose, anyways. He was careful with her, _so fucking careful._ Even when she wasn't injured, his touches were filled with so much tenderness and so much love, she couldn't imagine a situation where he would hurt her.

"Of course." Her hand tangled at the back of his head, her fingers wrapping around the curls there.

That seemed to be the only prompting Bellamy needed. When their lips met again, his kisses were filled with so much passion and fire that it made her melt in entirely different ways.

 _I love you._

She melted into him. All of the burdens lifted off her shoulders, all of her pain seemed to be put on hold. All she wanted to think about was him. Her heart ached for more. His lips were both soft and sweet, yet so firm and sure. It felt like she was flying and falling, all at the same time.

When she pulled away to catch her breath, his fingers creased her cheek. "I thought I lost you," he admitted. She could feel his fingertips ghost along the skin right above her ear – he was tracing right below where Cage hit her in the skull.

"You rescued me," she pointed out. It hit her in that moment that she never spoke to him about it.

His fingers dipped to rest against the side of her upper arm. His thumb continued to move in soothing circles. He smirked. "You didn't need any rescuing," he responded. "You had the situation under control."

"I passed out," she reminded him. "I'm fairly sure that qualifies as needing a rescue."

Bellamy pulled back a bit and Clarke realized just how uncomfortable her position was. Her torso felt like it had been dipped in a molten pot of lava, it was hurting so much. She tried to hide her grimace as she climbed off of his lip and moved to sit beside him. His arms didn't budge from around her shoulders.

"Knowing you were in danger…" He never finished that sentence. The tension was rolling off him. "For those few hours, all I needed to do was get to you. _I needed it._ I needed to know you were safe." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe we weren't allies anymore, but I never stopped loving you. I never stopped worrying about you, or caring about you, or thinking about you."

She wanted to echo those words back to him, but her voice got stuck in her throat. Somehow, she knew that he already understood.

"Watching you fight him was the most terrifying thing I've ever had to watch," Bellamy said, his voice strained. "I felt exactly like I did when Octavia was fighting the Careers at the start of the Games. I was useless. You were getting hurt and _I couldn't do anything about it._ I was far away. I didn't have a clear shot."

"You had a bow?" Clarke questioned. She smiled at that. She'd never seen him doing archery before.

"I knew I couldn't get close to him to fight him in combat – you'd be in too much danger." He glanced at her. "That was before you tried to escape."

"You're the one who shot the arrow," Clarke said. While her memories were hazy, she could clearly remember being able to gain the upper hand on Cage because of that arrow. That arrow saved her life.

She wasn't too sure why she was even surprised that it was Bellamy who saved her. Who else?

Her heart stopped and her blood turned cold. "And I killed him." Her mouth was dry.

Bellamy hesitated. He examined her face closely. "You did."

"I murdered Cage." Her head was spinning. She felt like she was going to get sick. "I'm a monster."

"He was the monster," he told her. "You weren't the one to capture him and torture him. You didn't start this."

"I only finished it." The words were like acid in her mouth. "That's no better than starting it."

Bellamy tried to comfort her by rubbing a circle on her arm. "We do what we have to to survive. Then, we find our humanity again." He quoted Kane to her. She remembered telling Bellamy those words long ago, during one of their many nights on watch. "You did what you had to so you could survive."

She still felt sick, but she knew she couldn't think about it. She knew that if she did, it was a hole that would take a long time to get out of.

So, she did the next best thing.

 _She ignored it._

She pushed down the pain and ran from her problems. It seemed to be working so far, so why not keep doing it?

"Well, you came at a good time," Clarke said, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. "You did rescue me, whether you want to agree or not."

His body was tense beneath her, but his hands were so gentle. She melted against each one of his touches. "Things happened so fast," he said. She'd only heard him sound like this once before; back when they first met in the arena. They were beside Octavia, all three of them covered in a mix of blood, dirt and tears. Things were so different back then. "I shot and _hoped_ it would hit Cage. There was nothing else I could do, but I was so terrified of hurting you by accident.

"And, after it was all over." He swallowed thickly. " _You fell._ You fell to the ground, and I could've sworn the earth stopped spinning. I didn't know if you were alive or not. I just kept thinking; _what if this is it?_ What if I'm too late? What if we're destined to be like this – to be apart – to always miss each other?

"I got to you, and _you were barely breathing._ " Clarke gripped his hand in hers as he spoke, knowing both of them would need comfort. "For a moment, I thought you died. I thought _that was it,_ and it was the most terrifying moment of my life." He pressed his lips against the top of her head, like he was reminding himself that she was there and she was okay. She relished in the feeling of his lips on her skin. "I didn't want that to be it, and it wasn't."

"It wasn't," she echoed. Those were the only words that she managed to speak past the lump in her throat.

Their lips connected for another kiss, this one more desperate and deep than the others. It was broken, too. Both of their faces were wet with tears and her lips trembled against his. Her hands rested against his cheeks, her thumbs brushing his tears away.

She felt so broken, yet so whole. Losing him was her last regret in life, and being back with him felt like things were right.

 _But hearing him talk was agonizing._ She couldn't imagine being the one in his position; not knowing if she would be able to save him. She _never_ wanted to be there, wondering if she was just a little too late, wondering if they'd ever get another moment together.

It was minutes later when either of them spoke next. "How did they find you?" he questioned, his voice still raw with emotion.

This topic of conversation wasn't any easier than the one before. Talking about what she did while they were separated meant diving back into her grief and her mourning. Talking about that meant she had to remember Luna, and her death.

 _She deserved that though._ Luna of District 4 deserved a lot more than she was given in this life.

"I bumped into another tribute," she said, settling against his side. "Luna."

"From District 4? The Career?"

 _And so she told him._ She told him about how she was alone and injured. She told him how she trusted her, even though it went against all logic. She told him how Luna was the one to help sort through her thoughts and to help work through some of her grief. To an outsider, her situation was simple, and she desperately needed that clarity.

And, she told him about her death, how she was willing to die to do the right thing.

"She explained why Ontari and Cage hate you," she said. "It was because you were different – because you and Octavia are breaking the mold. You are showing all the kids in the Career districts that you don't have to be ruthless and brutal and heartless to win. You're proving that you can be kind and have compassion and _love,_ and still win."

Before he could respond, she continued. "I'm so proud of you, Bellamy," she choked out. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. "For being who you are. For being strong enough to be different. For showing the next generation that being a tribute doesn't have to mean becoming a heartless killer, even if you're from a Career district." She glanced up at him and repeated her words. "I'm so proud of you."

His lips were on hers again, stealing her breath from her lungs. When they broke apart, she could see how wide Bellamy was smiling. She could tell he was trying to hide it.

"I love you."

She wasn't sure how long they sat together; it was easy to forget about time and get lost with him. Being in his arms; feeling at home; feeling safe – those were things she was savoring. She'd had to live without it before and she missed it more than she thought possible.

"I'm sorry for leaving," she whispered again. Bellamy tilted his head forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I forgive you," he told her. "And I understand, Clarke." She nodded her head. She couldn't trust her voice; she felt as if she was on the verge of tears. After a long pause, his arms tightened around her. _"Please don't leave me again._ "

His plea was a whisper that broke her heart.

Clarke twisted in his arms, turning so she could face him again. She doubted she would ever get tired of staring at his eyes, or looking at the curves of his lips, or studying all the freckles on his face.

"Never again," she promised him. "I'm never leaving, Bellamy. _That's a promise._ We're in this together."

Despite the heartbreak on his face, the corners of his lips quirked up the slightest bit. "Together, huh?"

She remembered their promise, all those nights ago - a lifetime ago.

"Together," she echoed. "I'm with you until the end."

* * *

 **I found this chapter difficult to write, and no amount of editing could fix it. I spent over a week working on it; writing, editing, rewriting, more editing… I'm not entirely happy with the final product, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!**

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter. If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**

District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated.**

 **Paw**


	46. Chapter 46: One Last Goodbye

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! I can't believe how close to the end we're getting. Enjoy some fluff while you can!**

* * *

 **Chapter 46: One Last Goodbye**

* * *

 _Day 13 in the arena_

* * *

The previous day was uneventful. Bellamy was on watch that night, which meant she slept alone. While it wasn't her first night alone, she missed him. Ever since reuniting with him, it was harder to be apart. She realized just how much she cared for him and how fragile all their lives were.

During the day, she spent most of it relaxing. _It was strange_. They were in the arena, and she just spent the last several days always on the move; now she had time to rest? It didn't seem real. It didn't seem like it _should_ have been real. It almost felt like she was slacking, or doing something wrong.

 _That worried her too._

She thought often about the scars she had from the Games, and how her mental health was impacted. She didn't have time to scratch the surface while in the arena, even when she was relaxing. It was complex and messy; two things she couldn't afford (or want) to bring into her life.

She was absorbed with survival and sacrifices. She couldn't fall apart. She needed to keep everything together, even if she wanted to fall apart and put herself together. She wanted to mourn and work through everything – _she needed to –_ but she couldn't.

Not here. Not now.

(If not now, when?)

Currently, Octavia was sitting at the mouth of the cave, a knife in her hands. She wasn't sure what happened to the sword she'd been carrying; she didn't want to ask. There was a lot that happened while they were separated, it seemed.

Octavia seemed different since they reunited. She seemed colder, more exhausted, and sharper. While she wasn't as close with the alliance as Clarke was, or even Bellamy, she did have a bond with them. She cared about them, too.

Octavia was quiet most of the time, choosing to polish a weapon of some sort. She was still kind and she still clearly cared, but she was different.

It hurt Clarke to think about that. Maybe she was closer to the alliance than she realized.

Bellamy entered the cave with a freshly boiled bottle of water. It was wrapped in his jacket to prevent burning himself. He wore different clothes than the ones they all entered the arena in. While they came into the arena in the standard black clothing and jacket, he now wore a dark blue shirt and black pants, but still wore his Capitol issued jacket.

It was the same with Octavia; she wore a maroon tank-top and the black Capitol issued jacket, along with the same Capitol issued pants.

Clarke assumed they both changed clothing when Clarke left them at the shop. It made sense; they were all filthy and their clothing was in tatters. This was especially true in the case of Octavia; there was still a large rip in her jacket where she was stabbed during the bloodbath.

Their jackets were still covered in blood and ripped in several places, but they were a comfort that wasn't easily replaced. The arena often bounced between two extreme temperatures; scorching in the day, cool in the evening. The jackets were perfect for protecting against the chill and also the sun.

Bellamy left his jacket with the bottle of water and made his way over to where Clarke was resting. Her heart flipped around a few times when he smiled at her. Gods, he looked smug, but sweet. Bellamy was someone she would love to spend years trying to figure out.

"How are you doing?"

He dropped to his knees beside her and leaned over her, looking at her injuries. Clarke tried to hide her amused smile as he examined her. She knew he didn't know much about first-aid, but it was sweet that he was trying for her.

"I'm good," she said. "It's been nearly 48 hours since you gave me both vials of the cellular regeneration medicine, and that is the average time it takes to work."

"We gave it to you after the sun set," Bellamy remembered. "I got you back to the cave by the time it was dark out."

Clarke nodded. "So, _roughly_ 48 hours." She thought back to when she was the one to administer the medicine, back at the start of their time in the arena. "Murphy was healed in less than 48 hours, but he had a single and fairly simple wound. Octavia, on the other hand, took over 48 hours to heal." She glanced at Bellamy. "How long did it take?"

He blew out a puff of air and leaned back. "I don't remember. It all blurs together." She felt the same way. "We were attacked on… day…?"

"Day 5 was the day Wells died," Clarke recalled. Her heart lurched in her chest, but she tried her best to ignore it. Bellamy was watching her closely, waiting for her reaction, but she kept her emotions guarded. _Now was not the time._ "We got the sponsor gift on day 4. By the time we got separated from the group, she was already walking." Clarke, for the life of her, couldn't remember what day she left the apartments with Bellamy and got trapped at the shop.

Was that normal? Was it normal for days to blend together like this?

"Raven, Lincoln, Monty, and Murphy died on day 8," Bellamy remembered. Clarke felt another sharp twinge of pain that she couldn't remember what day they died on. It felt like she was betraying them, in some way.

"It took over four days to heal, then?" Clarke wondered out loud.

While Octavia still clutched her side in pain, and limited her movement, she was doing better. When she showed Clarke her progress, it was beyond impressive to see the wound completely closed. The only remainder was a patch of bright red skin.

"Roughly."

"Well, my progress makes sense then." She pushed herself up into a sitting position, only grimacing when her head gave a sharp tug of pain. "My injuries are worse than Murphy's was, but not nearly as deep as Octavia's."

Clarke lifted up the front of her shirt to view the bruising underneath. It was faded almost completely, leaving only yellow spots behind. _That was good._ Her neck still felt tender, but she could press against the skin and not squirm. The cuts along her body had faded to red tissue and scars. Other than her head, she was doing well.

Bellamy settled beside her and she scooted to rest in his arms. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. Once again, her body came alight with butterflies.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said.

"Me too. I'm glad you're okay."

She glanced at his hand, which still was wrapped in gauze. Over the last day, she learned that he cut himself on glass in the shop. She was relieved to find out it was merely an accident, and not from another tribute.

After a blissful moment, he pulled back and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. "I have something for you."

"It's not even my birthday," she teased. Bellamy snorted in amusement. At least that was one good memory from the arena, back when all of their friends were still alive – back when they were all still innocent.

Clarke expected him to pull out a package of food, or some type of plant that he found when he went to collect water, but she was wrong.

He pulled out her father's watch from his pocket and held it in his palm.

Every thought in her mind vanished and her words got stuck in her throat. Her eyes were wide as she slowly reached for it, her mind trying to work out how he managed to get it. She glanced at him, her eyebrows pushed together. "How?"

"When I went to rescue you," he responded. "It was at the Career camp, in the grass." Clarke faintly remembered seeing it there, but her memories were blurry. She didn't know if it was because she hit her head so hard or if her mind chose to ignore it from all the pain she endured. "I thought you might want to have it."

She took it from him, her fingers sweeping over the cracked glass face. Her heart was in her throat and her hands shook. She didn't think she would ever see the watch again. And, while she didn't cling to it as much as she did when she first arrived at the Capitol, it was still a piece of home and still a piece of her father.

 _The last piece of them._

"Thank you," she breathed.

The glass was cracked and the hands no longer ticked, but she didn't care about that. She no longer held onto the security and comfort of time passing. The watch wasn't what grounded her anymore; it was simply a token from home – a token from her father.

"I forgot I grabbed it," he admitted. "I would've given it back to you earlier if I remembered. It was just with everything happening.…"

"I get it," she told him. Their gaze met. "Thank you. Really. I don't care if I got it back now, yesterday, or in a week. The fact that you thought to grab it and carry it for me…" Her throat felt tight. "Thank you."

"I know how much it means to you."

Clarke nodded and bit back tears. He might have been the only one that really knew how much this watch meant to her. It was one of the first things that connected them back in the Capitol. When the Careers were targeting her, they stole her watch, and he helped her get it back.

Back then, their actions seemed like the lowest of lows. She didn't understand how humans could be so cruel. She was shocked by their coldness and their harsh words.

It was different looking back at it. She'd been through so much since then; mainly at the hands of the Careers. She'd watch people she cared about die, she killed others. She experienced torture, and carried scars that ran so deep she didn't know where to start.

She tried to shake it off again. She couldn't think about it, not if she wanted to stay alive.

It was funny, in a way. Even while resting, she was still running. No matter what she was doing in the arena, she was running; running from the enemy, running away from the demons in her mind.

"You never told me what your token is," Clarke realized. She shifted in his arms to look up at him. "What is it?"

He reached into the same pocket he carried her token in and pulled out a simple silver chain. He ran his fingers over the chain and lifted it for Clarke to see.

"It was my mother's." He didn't speak of her often, and she knew it was because her death was still fresh for him. Just like her, he lost a parent only a year before entering the arena. "I miss her," he admitted. Clarke felt her chest pang with hurt. "I thought, if I'm going to die here, I might as while do it with a piece of her with me."

"She would be proud of you," Clarke said.

While she didn't know his mother, she knew that any mother would be proud of her children. Bellamy and Octavia were changing the game and breaking molds. They were teaching generations to follow that the Games were more than just killing.

Who knew; maybe they would inspire Career tributes, showing them there was a better way. Maybe there would be another tribute like them; strong and brave, compassionate and caring.

Clarke was proud of them. She knew his mom would've been, too.

"She taught Octavia and I to be good people," he said. "She taught us that we don't have to be what the world said we should be. She taught us to take care of family. She taught us to love and strive for what we want."

"She sounds like an amazing woman."

"She is." He smiled bitterly. "Was."

He slipped the chain back into his pocket. She tucked her head against Bellamy's chest, listening to the steadiness of his heart. Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt.

Not long after, the anthem started playing. While Clarke wanted to go watch it for herself, she was entirely too comfortable beside him. Besides, a canon hadn't gone off that day. There really wasn't a point in watching the Capitol logos flash across the sky.

Octavia confirmed nobody died when the music ended. "I'm going to the river," she added, already moving out of the cave.

Bellamy jerked away from the wall. "O-"

"I'll be fine," she cut off Bellamy. "I'll stay right beside the cave. I'm still on watch. I just want to be alone."

He was reluctant. She could sense the tension in him. "You're staying _right there?_ "

"Yes. I'll hear if you shout." She lifted her hand in a promise. "I swear. I won't be far. I just need time to think."

Finally, he sighed and nodded his head. "Okay. Be back soon, alright?"

"I will." With that, she left the cave.

Clarke thought about how it was another day with no action in the arena. There were only a handful of tributes left; her, Bellamy, Octavia, Ontari, Echo and Dax.

The last death was on day 11, when she murdered Cage. That meant both day 12 and day 13 had no deaths and no action.

That was dangerous.

The longer they went without something happening, the more likely the Capitol was to intervene. She hoped that maybe there was something going on between Dax, Echo and Ontari – maybe there was enough action between the other tributes that could keep sponsors entertained.

She had watched as the Capitol set fire to half of the arena, forcing tributes together so they could fight. She watched them release packs of mutts to herd tributes together, or killing others.

Regardless of how they did it; Clarke knew they were nearing that point. The Games never lasted more than 20 days, and they were minutes away from day 14. There were still six tributes out there, and three of which were still in an alliance.

Clarke had a sinking feeling that the Capitol would target them next. There were three of them still left, and they were all in an alliance.

Alliances should have all dissolved by now; nobody wanted to be in the finals and have someone you cared about there with you. Nobody wanted to have to make the choice between dying or killing your ally.

Their alliance was strong, and she didn't see it breaking up in the foreseeable future. Octavia and Bellamy were brother and sister; he came here to protect her. She was in love with Bellamy, and he loved her; she didn't plan on leaving him.

No way was there going to be a conflict that broke out between the three of them. They knew that. The Capitol knew that. The sponsors knew that.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the Capitol would have to intervene. She had a feeling that this intervention was coming soon.

"How much longer do you think we'll have?" Clarke said out loud. She stared straight ahead at the opposite wall of the cave. She focused on how the water trickled down the mildew covered walls. "Do you think we'll last to day 20?"

"No." He didn't hesitate with his answer.

Whatever piece of hope that Clarke carried died in that instant. She grew up watching the Games and she was no stranger to how they worked, but Bellamy had more knowledge than she ever could possess. He grew up training to fight in the Games; he grew up being taught everything about them.

If he didn't think they were going to survive much longer, then it must've been true.

"Alliances usually don't last this long into the arena – especially with the little amount of tributes there are left," he explained further. "Six tributes is a really small amount. I doubt the Games will last much longer at all. For sure not to day 20."

Things would happen sooner than she was thinking. That made her heart fall. A panic like no other took her, making her palms sweat and her mouth go dry.

"Back at the academy, we used to watch and study all the previous Games, so we knew what to do and what not to do when it was our turn," he began. "I've seen the last day of the Games start out with up to ten tributes. I expect that any day could be the final day in the arena."

Clarke's heart was hammering in her chest at this point. This whole time, she knew it could end at any second. _It was logical._ But, somehow, she convinced herself she had at least until day 20 to live. She held onto the idea that she had seven days left in the arena; seven days left to spend with Bellamy; seven days left to live.

 _She was wrong._ She knew Bellamy was right; as soon as he spoke the words, she seen the logic in them.

This came with the realization that any day could be her last day. She could die at any second. _Bellamy could die at any second._

She locked her hands around his waist and pulled herself closer to him, like that simple action would be able to keep him with her. She wished it was that simple. She wished that, as long as she was holding onto him, he wouldn't be taken away from her.

She'd been thinking about death often. _Her death, specifically._ She knew it was coming, but she'd been wondering when. When would the Capitol finally decide she'd been around long enough? When would they think she'd suffered enough?

What terrified her the most was losing Bellamy or Octavia. She knew she couldn't win, and she also knew both of them had high chances of winning. They'd trained their whole lives for this moment.

 _They could win._

Well… _one_ of them could win.

She tried to ignore how queasy her stomach felt in that moment. It felt like she was going to be sick.

 _Only one of them could survive._ Only Bellamy or Octavia could be the last tribute standing at the end of this.

 _And, even then, that wasn't guaranteed._ Dax, or Echo, or Ontari could win, too. They had to be fierce and strong if they made it this far in the Games.

She hoped one of the Blakes won. Her heart was yearning for Bellamy to win; she loved him with every fiber of her being and _he was a good person_. She wanted him to be the one to win; she wanted him to go on and live the life he always wanted.

But, she also knew that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't come here to win; he came here to protect Octavia. She knew that if he was the one to become Victor, he would carry remorse and guilt for a long time. He wanted Octavia to win.

"It's strange to think about how fast this has gone by," he mumbled. She was happy to be distracted. "It's been two weeks of living in this arena. Has it felt like two weeks to you?"

"In some ways, no. It's felt shorter than two weeks." Time had gone by so fast. By focusing on surviving, the days flew by. "But, at the same time, it feels like we've been here for a full lifetime."

Was it really two weeks since they sat on the roof together in the Capitol? Was it really two weeks since she'd first seen the tall buildings and the gleaming Cornucopia? Had it been less than two weeks ago that Wells was killed?

She sighed, a heavy weight settling in her chest. "Time's almost up."

His arm tightened around her. "I know." It hurt that he didn't try to tell her otherwise. Sometimes the truth hurt. "I love you, Clarke," he said, his voice tight. It instantly brought tears to her eyes. "No matter what happens. _I love you_."

Her throat was tight with emotion. "I know," she said, her voice hoarse. "I love you, too, Bell." She didn't have the strength to look at him. She knew that if she did, she'd break down, and that would make things a million time harder.

She had to stay strong – for both of them.

"Clarke," he said. He spoke her name with such tenderness that it made it nearly impossible to swallow. "In case I don't see you again-"

She shook her head, cutting him off. She turned to face him out of instinct. "No," she pleaded. Seeing his brown eyes so broken made her heart clench. "We aren't saying goodbye." She shook her head again and settled in his arms. "Not yet."

"This doesn't have to be a goodbye right now," he told her. The muscles in his arms were tight. She locked her eyes on the wall of the cave again. "We both know we aren't getting out of this alive. Goodbye is inevitable."

Her heart felt like it cracked in half with those words. She pressed her lips together to hold back a sob.

"I don't want to say goodbye yet," she told him, her voice breaking. "I don't want to ever say goodbye to you."

"Neither do I." He pressed a swift kiss to the top of her head. His lips ghosted on her skin as he spoke. "But I want you to know what you mean to me before it's too late. Things could change at any second." He paused, weighing his words carefully. "I don't want to die with any regrets."

 _Death._ She wished she didn't have to think about it. She wished they didn't have to talk about it.

 _But he was right._ It was just as Luna said – she didn't want any regrets, either. It was just as Wells said, too.

 _No regrets. No reservations._

Clarke nodded, not trusting her voice to work.

"I never expected to fall in love with someone. I dedicated my whole life to my family; to survival; to making sure Octavia got the best. I volunteered for the Games because of her – to protect her, to make sure that she got home." He swallowed. She could sense how much thought he was putting into what he was saying. "But then I met you. _I met you and things changed_. I didn't see it at first; I wanted to stick to the plan that I had – I didn't want to risk O.

"But you – you, Clarke – are simply life-changing. You have so much love and kindness in your heart, and you carry around a light that seems to scare away all of the monsters. You're so fearless, Clarke." He tilted his head to the side, a half-smile growing. "No. That's not right. _You are scared of things._ You do have fears. _And that makes you human._ You have fears, and hopes, and dreams, and I love every one of them. I love all of the things you claim to hate about yourself; I love everything about you.

"I'm so thankful I met you," he said, his voice catching. All the air in her chest got knocked out. "I wouldn't trade anything for this – for these moments with you."

She turned in his grasp. His hands moved to grip her waist, holding her steady as she kneeled in front of him. She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing along his cheeks. She hoped that he understood what she was trying to tell him. She couldn't begin to form the proper words in that moment. She hoped he could feel all of her love for him.

He moved forward, capturing her lips with his. His one hand ran up her back, holding her close to him in a partial hug. Her own hands travelled from his cheek to the back of his neck. Her fingers tangled in his curls, tugging his mouth closer to hers.

 _I love you. I love you. I love you._

She straddled his lap, bringing her body as close to his as possible. She was desperate in that moment – desperate to be as close to him as possible, desperate to show how much she loved him, desperate to have one final moment with him.

Her teeth swept across his bottom lip and his hands tightened on her back. She grinned against his lips. _Damn,_ he was hot. She wanted more; more of his lips pressed on hers, more of his teeth along her lips, more of his hands on her body, more time with him.

Each kiss was deep, making her head spin and stealing all the air from her lungs.

His hands tightened on her sides the slightest bit, electing a moan from between her lips. It was his turn to grin cockily against her lips.

Each time their lips met, she tried to pour everything in her into them. _I love you. I care about you. I want you. I miss you._

His teeth were on her lips too, tugging ever so gently at them. His hands seemed to light her skin on fire as they travelled across her back. She felt like she was burning in the best ways possible.

They broke apart for air and both of their chests were heaving. As she caught her breath, she moved forward and pressed a firm kiss to his jaw. He bit down on his lip to suppress a moan. His hands were under her shirt, running along the smooth skin of her back. She pressed another deep kiss to his neck, reveling in the way his hands gripped her body.

Their lips crashed together again, their breaths mixing between each kiss. Her one hand slipped under the front of his shirt, too, her fingers dragging along the skin, her fingers tracing the curves of each muscle.

She wanted more. _Needed more._

"Clarke," he mumbled against her lips. She felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. He said her name with so much love and so much passion that it made her toes curl.

His lips traveled down to her neck. He pressed kisses to her skin every few inches. Her hands tangled in the back of his hair again, gently pulling at the curls. His fingernails brushed against her skin.

Her head rolled forward, her lips resting against the top of his head. She sucked in breath after breath, trying to maintain her composure as he kissed her neck. Her head moved forward, her lips coming to rest inches away from his ear. "Bell," she moaned. Her lips ghosted along his skin. She forced her eyes open. "Bellamy," she said again, her voice more controlled.

He must've sensed a shift in her. He froze for a moment before pulling away from her. They locked eyes. His pupils were blown; he looked intense and _so damn hot._ It took all of her control not to press her lips to his again.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice raspy. She nodded and tried to hold onto her composure.

"Yeah." She cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm great. Just… television," she mumbled. Her head was foggy. "We're in the arena. The cameras-"

She didn't need to say anymore. His hands dropped from her sides and he blinked rapidly. "Right. Yeah." His tongue darted out to wet his lips. She tried not to think about how much she wanted to kiss him again. "Of course."

She couldn't help but press a chaste kiss to him. He smiled. "Hell, Bellamy. _If we weren't in the arena right now."_ She didn't bother finishing her thought. She knew that he understood what she was implying by the way his eyes darkened.

"Agreed, princess."

She rested his forehead against his as she caught her breath. He didn't seem to be in a hurry to get away from her either; his hands moved to rest against her back again, pulling her flush against him.

She locked eyes with him and couldn't help but smile. The joy and the love she felt in that moment was unparalleled to anything. Their kisses were frantic and firm, but held so much warmth and love that it made her heart melt.

She knew that this peace wasn't meant to last forever, but she didn't dare let that tarnish the moments they had left. _This_ were those simple pleasures Wells told her about all those nights ago.

 _Loving someone and having them love her back._

 _Melting into someone, and letting them hold her together._

 _Being together and feeling like she wasn't just an individual anymore, but like they were two halves of one whole._

 _Completely and utterly loving someone, and wanting to give everything she had to him._

"I love you," she whispered. "And, if this is our goodbye, I want you to know that I wouldn't trade anything either. I wouldn't trade anything in the world for the time I've spent with you. You are like the moon, Bellamy; guiding, and illuminating, and calming." His arms tightened around her and his eyes fell shut. "And you're like the sun. Warm, bright, and home.

"You're the heart to my head, Bellamy. You complete me in ways I never thought were possible. You understand me like no other. _And I am so thankful for you."_

He pressed a firm kiss to her lips, stealing the breath from her once again. She shifted off of his lap, but still remained pressed into his side, savoring the warmth and safety it brought her.

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, she thought about where they came from. From staring at him across the tribute parade, to bickering with him in the elevator, to trusting him during training. All of the nights spent on the roof, all of the stolen moments between tribute functions. All of the secrets and burdens shared, all of the trust and understanding built.

And, in the arena, all of the trust she had for him, and all of the love that developed. She remembered how many times they sacrificed everything for each other. She remembered all the nights they spent in each other's arms, wishing for a different world – a better world.

She remembered how terrified she was to love him; she was terrified that she was going to lose him – she was terrified of the pain that would come with it. That same dread and fear lived in her now, even though his warmth usually scared away the demons.

 _She didn't want to lose him. She didn't want to see him hurt. She didn't want him to die._

Bellamy pressed a kiss to her temple, silencing her thoughts. She focused on how his lips felt against her skin, and how his hands felt on her body. She focused on how his eyes darkened with desire and intensity as they kissed, and she focused on how her whole body buzzed when he nipped at her skin.

It was easy to get distracted with the memories of their kiss. It brought her out of her momentary spiral. It reminded her that it wasn't over yet.

 _They still had time._

* * *

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are confirmed dead from this current chapter (none). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!** **  
**District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **Thank you for reading! As always, reviews are appreciated!**

 **Paw**


	47. Chapter 47: Infinity

**A shorter chapter, but the next chapter's length should make up for it!**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 47: Infinity**

* * *

 _Day 14 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke stretched in the furthest corner of the cave, trying to ease out all of the kinks and tension in her muscles.

She was healing nicely. She'd seen how fast the Capitol medicine worked on Octavia and Murphy, so she really shouldn't have been surprised. It still felt like a miracle though. She didn't think it would be possible for her to be moving already, but she felt _good._

She grew up in the world of medicine and healing; her mother was a part of creating similar medicine to the ones used on her and her allies during the Games, but she never seen them in action. She'd never had them used on her.

She grew up in District 6. While it wasn't the most poverty-stricken district, they weren't the Capitol or District 1. This medicine was expensive – more than what anyone she knew could afford.

Clarke realized how fortunate they were in the arena. As a whole alliance, they'd received _four_ vials of the cell regeneration medicine. _Four._ She couldn't even afford one herself.

Whoever Kane managed to find for sponsorship must've been from the Capitol. It hurt that she never would find out who her sponsors were, or how Kane managed to convince so many people to invest in them.

 _Them._ A group of nine teenagers. _(or, it used to be nine of them. only three remained now.)_

 _Them._ Teenagers from across Panem; District 2, District 3, District 5, District 6, District 8.

 _Them._ Teenagers people had hope for.

 _Them._ Teenagers that died.

Clarke winced as she twisted roughly. Her muscles clenched and her skin felt tight. She reached over to her torso and massaged it, willing the pain to leave.

Considering she wasn't sure if she was going to live a few days ago, she felt amazing. She had been tortured for what felt like days, even though it was only a fraction of that. She was stabbed and cut, she was drowned and slapped, she was shocked, she was hit.

 _And she lived._

The skin on the side of her head was still tender, as was her torso, but the majority of the cuts were healed. The bruises were disappearing. The burns across her neck had vanished.

She knew that the Capitol medicine couldn't heal all wounds though. Not all wounds were physical. Not all wounds could be solved with some cellular regeneration.

Clarke doubted she would live long enough to have to cope with the trauma. She would never get out of this arena – it wasn't a question. She'd managed to keep her thoughts about what happened to her away in the name of survival.

 _She couldn't help but wonder what she would do if survival was no longer an issue._

How could she live with herself, knowing everything that she has done? She had killed kids – kids just like her, trying to get home to their families.

 _Atom. Roan. Cage._

She's helped kill others, too.

 _Ilian. The girl from District 9._

She watched people die.

 _Wells. Monty. Murphy. Luna._

She knew others who died.

 _Lincoln. Raven. Charlotte._

She felt like she was covered in the blood of her enemies and her friends. If she got out of the arena, how would she ever be able to live with what she had to do? How would she ever be able to grieve her friends? How would she ever be able to move on from the pain she suffered in the arena?

And, if she won, that meant that she would be the last survivor. _Octavia and Bellamy would have to die for that to happen._

She wasn't ready to lose them. She couldn't lose anyone else. _Especially not him._ Not Bellamy.

Clarke glanced across the cave as she continued to stretch. Octavia and Bellamy were tossing pieces of dried fruit from a bag back and forth to each other, trying to catch each piece in their mouths. They were smiling and looked relaxed.

It made her heart hurt.

 _Only one of them could survive._

Between all three of them, only one of them could come out alive. She already knew she was going to die within the next few days. Bellamy planned to die too. He would give anything to see Octavia win.

Clarke wished their lives were different. She was doing that often. She wished she met Bellamy before they were both reaped. She wished all three of them weren't in the arena together. Maybe they could've had more time together – maybe they could have had a life together.

Clarke also thought about how she was going to die. It was a strange thing to think of and it made her sick. _She didn't want to die._ She wanted to live.

She wasn't stupid though; she knew it wasn't possible. Her death was guaranteed months ago, when her father was taken from her. Her death in the arena was guaranteed the moment her name was pulled from the glass ball.

She was sure of one thing; she didn't want to lose anyone else. She didn't want to go through another heartbreak. She'd already lost so many people she cared about, and she couldn't bring herself to imagine losing someone else.

 _Especially not Bellamy._

She tried not to think of his death often. She hoped that the Capitol would've already killed her by the time it came. She thought it might be selfish that she didn't want to be a tribute anymore as he died. She knew that meant _he_ had to be beside her as she died, and that was a fate she wouldn't wish on anyone.

 _Being beside someone as they died was agony._ Watching someone that they cared about die, and not being able to do anything about it, was terrible. It was gut-wrenching.

She didn't want to experience that with Bellamy, and she didn't want him to experience that with her.

Part of her almost wished she stayed away, only to escape this terrible situation they were in. At least, that way, he never would have to hold her while she died.

She didn't regret coming back – not one bit – but she wished it could've been different. She wished that she could've saved him from that pain.

He glanced over at her and smiled. His face lit up in the most beautiful and most genuine way possible; it made Clarke's heart ached. _She cared about him so much._ And, gods, did he ever look good.

He lifted a piece of dried fruit from his bag and gestured in her direction. Clarke smirked and opened her mouth. It bounced off of her nose and rolled into her lap.

"You're terrible at catching," he commented.

Clarke picked up the piece of fruit and tossed it into her mouth. "Maybe you're terrible at throwing."

"I can confirm he's terrible at throwing," Octavia chimed in. She chewed on another fruit piece. She stopped for a moment, her head cocking to the side. "Do you guys hear that?"

Clarke froze, a wave of panic coming over her. She strained her ears to try and listen for what Octavia could possibly be hearing. She couldn't hear anything. Just when she was going to speak, she stopped herself.

 _There._

She could hear it now; it was a faint ping, coming from beyond the mouth of the cave. She'd heard this once before, when she first kissed Bellamy. It was a sponsor gift.

"Another gift?" Bellamy asked. He glanced at the still half-full crate of goods that was sent to them while Clarke was unconscious.

Clarke was surprised with another gift, too. She knew how expensive the medicine was that she received – and they had two vials of it only a few days ago. Plus, food came with the package, too.

Why were they getting another one so soon? Did Kane find another sponsor for them? It seemed unlikely. Maybe Diyoza?

Bellamy stood up from where he was resting and left the cave, his sword in his hand. Clarke moved to where she dropped her sword and clutched it in her hands, too.

Even though she knew the arena was large and the there were few tributes left, she couldn't help but remember the first time they got a sponsor gift. It led the Careers right to their hiding spot, which ended up killing Wells and Charlotte.

Hearing those sounds again made her skin crawl.

She stood beside Octavia in silence. She could hear Bellamy moving outside, now. His feet crunched against debris on the forest floor and he rustled with something – probably the clip that attached sponsor gifts to the parachutes.

Before she could begin to worry about him, he was back in the cave, a tiny metal jar clutched in his hands. She hadn't seen this type of container before. Usually, they got boxes or crates, but this was more oval-shaped and had a screw-on lid.

Octavia's forehead creased. "What's that?"

"I don't know." He crouched beside the two girls and placed the metal container on the ground. Clarke leaned over, eager to see what was inside.

He unscrewed the lid, revealing a tiny bowl of soup and a spoon. Clarke smiled at that. Instantly, her mouth watered. It was steaming and smelled so good. She couldn't remember the last time she had a hot meal. It was the night before she was sent into the arena, for sure. Well, that wasn't counting the squirrel they found during their first night in the arena.

Octavia let out a sound of appreciation before she dove towards it. She brought it up to her nose and inhaled, an even wider smile spread across her face. "Shit. I forgot how good actual food smells."

"You don't like the smell of dried meat?" Clarke teased. The other girl wrinkled her nose. Clarke snorted at that. Dried meat had a strong, and not always pleasant, smell to it. Octavia was right; she almost forgot how good real food smelt like.

Bellamy flipped the lid over in his hands and pulled out a tiny white card. It must've been a note from one of their mentors, letting them know small pieces of advice. It was nice knowing that, even if things got really bad, they had mentors and sponsors watching out for them.

"Is it from Diyoza?" Octavia asked. She picked up the spoon and took the first sip of the soup. She closed her eyes to savor the flavor. "Mmmmm. This is so good."

"Hand it over," Clarke demanded, reaching for the soup. Octavia jokingly moved the soup away from her hands.

"Maybe if you ask nicely," she teased. She took another small sip, smirking when Clarke frowned. "Kidding. Here." She passed the soup to her outstretched hands.

Octavia was right. _It was so good._ While she was sure it wasn't anything special in the eyes of the Capitol, it was better than anything she had in days. Out of the two weeks in the arena, she'd only had one cooked meal. That was pretty sad.

Octavia peered over Bellamy's shoulder to read the note, since he wasn't answering her question. Her brow furrowed as she read the note. "What the hell does that mean?"

Clarke pulled the container of soup away from her lips, suddenly interested by the note. Bellamy looked like he had seen a ghost, while Octavia purely looked confused.

"What's it say?"

Bellamy seemed to compose himself at that. He flipped the card around for Clarke to read it.

 _DEAL,_ ∞

Clarke felt like Octavia in that moment. "I don't get it."

"Neither do I," he admitted. He turned the card back to himself, reading it over again.

"Well, it's from District 8," Octavia concluded. "Maybe it was supposed to be for Lincoln? Or maybe it's from his family? For us? They could've got us a sponsor gift." Her voice sounded hopeful with that and it broke Clarke's heart.

She knew Octavia and Lincoln had a special connection. The way her voice sounded hopeful – wistful, almost – made Clarke want to cry.

"It's not from District 8," Bellamy said. He shot Octavia a pained look. "Sorry, O."

Her face hardened once again. "What do you mean? It's signed from 8 – right there, at the bottom." She reached forward, tapping on the ∞ sign.

"That isn't an eight," Bellamy said. "That's the sign for infinity."

Octavia shrunk back. "Oh."

"Why would someone sign a sponsor card with that?" Clarke asked, moving towards Bellamy's side so she could continue to look at it.

 _DEAL,_ ∞

It didn't make sense. She knew what infinity meant – it meant forever, timeless, and endless. She just couldn't figure out why a sponsor would sign with that symbol.

"Maybe it's a wish for good fortune," Bellamy suggested. "You know, like, they're wishing infinity on us. That we'll live for infinity."

Clarke nodded slowly. That made sense. Sort of.

"But what about the actual message?" Octavia asked. "Deal? Deal for what?"

Bellamy folded the card in half. "Maybe they made a deal with Diyoza or something, right?" he suggested. "I mean, sponsors _do_ have to make deals with mentors for sponsorship. I think we might have been sent the wrong note."

Clarke wasn't sure about that. If this was a note that was supposed to be sent to Diyoza, then what did the infinity symbol mean?

Bellamy seemed happy with his answer. He took the soup from Clarke and pulled the container to his lips.

On the other hand, Octavia didn't seem as happy as before. Clarke suspected that it had something to do with Lincoln.

"I'm going to be outside for a while," she said, standing up. "To make sure nobody seen the sponsor gift."

Clarke knew that wasn't the reason why she wanted to be alone, but she didn't say anything. Octavia slipped out of the cave, leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone.

She wasn't hungry anymore. Not understanding the note sent to them left a sour taste in her mouth. She left Bellamy with the container of soup and moved back to the furthest corner of the cave. As she continued her stretches, she tried to figure out what the note could mean.

* * *

Octavia had returned to the cave an hour later. She still seemed to be upset, but less so than earlier.

Clarke rested her head in Bellamy's lap and let him run his fingers through her hair. It was strange having free time in the arena. When she imagined what her time in the arena would be like, she never would've guessed that it mostly included sitting around, waiting for something bad to happen.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Octavia asked, looking up from the knife she was sharpening. Clarke pulled herself up from his lap, deciding this was a conversation she wanted to be completely alert for.

"We continue to lay low. Ontari is probably looking for us," Bellamy said. His facial expression turned sour at that. Even Clarke felt a wave of panic hit her.

 _That was also a scar she was carrying._ All of the torture and all of the pain weighed heavily on her. Just hearing her name made her descend into panic.

"It's just the three of us, her, Echo and Dax," Clarke added.

"We need an escape plan," Octavia said after a moment of silence. "That's what Raven always said. She always planned for an escape. Right? At the cave, there was the fire traps. At the apartments, it was the roof and the explosions." Clarke tried to ignore the way she felt her stomach twist with those words. "What about now?"

"We don't have many options," Bellamy said. "The only way in or out is the mouth of the cave. If we go straight or turn right out of the cave, there's the river, and none of us know how to swim. The only option is to go left, which is back to the city."

"Would that be a good idea?" Clarke asked. "To go back to the city without a plan? It might be a good idea to make that a meeting spot, in case we ever get separated."

"Our store," he agreed. "Yeah. We could head there if we're ever separated. It would be a good idea to scatter in different directions if we're attacked. That way, at least two of us could get to safety."

Octavia scowled. "I'm not leaving your side, Bellamy."

He wasn't impressed. "Well, you'll have to."

"Why?"

"Because it's the best plan," he pushed. "I'm not having this argument again with you, Octavia. If it comes down to it, you'll leave me."

She shook her head again. "Fat chance."

"Octavia-"

"No, Bellamy," she said heatedly, cutting him off. "If you think I would just leave you to die, you're stupid."

"I _do_ think that," he said. "If it comes down to it, you know I would stay behind so you could get away. Do you really think I would let you do that for me? Do you think I would let you _stay_ with me? You'd be risking your life – and for what? Just because you're stubborn?"

She stuck her chin in the air. "You're right. I am stubborn. That's why I wouldn't leave you."

Bellamy turned to Clarke, looking for help. "You'd get her away from me, right? You'd make her leave?"

Octavia turned to her, her eyes narrowed. Clarke bit her lip and tried to ignore her pointed gaze. "If it came down to it, I wouldn't be leaving your side either," she said, glancing at him. His expression fell at that. She wondered how he could expect a different answer than the one she gave. Did he really expect her to leave him if it came down to it? "I wouldn't let you do that alone."

He pressed his lips together tightly. Octavia looked pleased. "It looks like majority wins the vote. We're staying together."

"This isn't a vote," he said, his tone clipped. "This is us deciding the best plan so more of us can live. This is us trying to figure out a way so one of us comes out the Victor. That's what we want, right? We want to see one of the others win?"

Clarke was mildly offended he was even asking her this. "Of course," she replied without hesitation.

"So, if it came down to it, you'd leave one of us so the rest could live?" he prompted.

She lifted her eyebrows in defiance. "I know what you're asking, Bellamy, and my answer is still no. I'm not doing that again. I'm not leaving anyone else behind to die."

"And if you think I'm running away from a fight, you don't know me at all," Octavia pointed out. "You know me better than that, Bellamy. Do you really think I would be able to turn around and walk away, knowing you're in danger?"

"Octavia-"

"Plus, you're a hypocrite. Do _you_ want to see one of us become Victor?"

Bellamy scoffed. "Yes."

"So, with your logic, why does it have to be _you_ to stay behind and fight? It could be me. You and Clarke could do exactly what you're asking me to do – to leave me behind while you two escape." Bellamy was silent. "You wouldn't do that for me, so why in the absolute hell would I do that for you?" Octavia pressed.

"Because I volunteered for that," he responded. His voice was rough, like it was on the verge of breaking. "I volunteered to keep you safe. It's my responsibility to keep you safe, O."

"You've done that your whole life," she argued. "I know you came here to help me, to protect me. You never told me, but I know you plan to die here." Her eyes were burning with intensity. "But I would like to see you go home, too."

He lifted his chin. "Do you trust me?" Before she could answer, he glanced at Clarke. "Do _you_ trust me?"

"More than anyone," she responded. Octavia nodded in agreement.

"Then trust in my plan." He reached for Clarke's hand. "It'll work out, alright? I promise."

"You can't promise those things," Clarke told him. Her heart was heavy.

"It'll work out," he reassured her. "Just… trust me, okay? I have a plan."

"A plan you won't fill us in on?" Octavia pressed.

Bellamy smirked. "You know it." She scowled.

Clarke squeezed his hand. "I trust you, Bellamy." While she wasn't going to promise she would do everything he asked, she trusted him.

That was good enough for her. _For now._

* * *

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are characters that died in the current chapter (none). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!** **  
**District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Male: Bellamy  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **While I have everyone here, I just wanted to give a warning that the next few chapters are fairly rough. We're nearing the end of the fic, which means a lot has to happen! Be warned the next few chapters contain more violence, gore, and character death than these last few chapters have.**

 **As always, I try to keep the level of violence and gore to what we see in canon. If you have any comments/concerns about this, feel free to reach out and I'll be happy to discuss with you! Or, if you'd rather receive chapter summaries because you aren't sure about the content of a chapter, let me know and I'll be happy to do so!**

 **Reviews are appreciated. A huge thank you for reading!**

 **Paw**


	48. Chapter 48: When We All Fall Asleep

**Note: song title based off the song by Billie Eilish**

 **Warnings (spoilers):** violence, gore, character death

 **Get ready! From this point on, it's gonna be intense.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 48: When We All Fall Asleep**

* * *

 _Day 14 in the arena_

* * *

Hours later, the sun was setting. Clarke rested her head on Bellamy's shoulder, her eyelids already drooping shut. Bellamy's head rested against hers, too.

She loved him so much that it hurt. She wanted to spend forever like this; wrapped up in his arms. She was in the blissful stage between sleeping and awake, and life was perfect, just for a moment. He was close to sleeping too, judging the way his breathing was even.

She nuzzled herself closer to him, feeling a wave of affection hit her. His arm was snug against her waist. She felt complete in that moment.

Complete, content, calm.

 _She should have known something terrible was coming._

While she was in the limbo between sleep and consciousness, she could've sworn that she heard howling. She jolted awake out of Bellamy's arms, sitting straight up.

She glanced around the cave wildly, her sword already in her hand. She strained her ears to hear something – anything. Octavia was asleep across the cave still, and Bellamy was only looking groggy.

"What's wrong?" he asked while rubbing his eye. Clarke shook her head. Her throat felt too tight for words. "You okay?"

"Fine." She kept listening for more howls. Butterflies had erupted in her stomach at this point and her body was alight with adrenaline. "Did you hear anything?"

"No." He sat up straighter, a look of concern on his face. "Why? You heard something?"

"I thought I did." Something didn't feel right. She had a growing feeling in her gut that something was wrong. She tried to convince herself that the howling she heard was part of a dream, but it sounded so real. She pushed off the ground. "I'm going to check it out." She glanced at Bellamy, who was already climbing behind her. "Go to sleep. It's not a big deal." She smirked. "Besides, I'm on watch tonight."

He pouted. "Who's supposed to hold me while I sleep if you're gone?"

Clarke smiled, despite the nagging feeling growing in her. "I'll be back soon."

He must've been extremely tired, as he didn't need much convincing. He shifted a bit before resting his head against the cave wall, his eyes fluttering shut.

He even looked good while he slept. It was entirely unfair a human could look so much like a Greek hero.

Clarke stepped out of the cave, her jacket pulled tightly around her body. Her sword hung by her side as her eyes swept the horizon. This was the first time she'd seen where they had been hiding out in. Over the last two days, she had stayed mainly in the cave.

It was just as Octavia and Bellamy described. Their cave was positioned right beside a slow moving river. The brown water barely moved down the slope of the hill they were on, but she could tell the speed picked up further down the hill. The water rushing further away and she could almost imagine the brown fading to white.

The trees surrounding them were completely still. None of the leaves blew in the wind because there _wasn't_ any wind.

 _It was completely silent._

Clarke shifted from foot to foot as she scanned between the trees. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and a chill went down her spine. The silence was heavy. The tension was thick.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the ground. Between the trees, golden rays beamed towards her, causing her to squint. She knew she should've been warmed by the sun, but she just felt chilled.

Her heart was racing. Her palms were sweating. Her arms felt weak. She felt on edge.

 _But there was nothing there._ Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, not really, at least. The water was trickling quietly, the sun was warming the earth, the trees were casting shadows. She couldn't see a single thing out of place, and she definitely couldn't see signs that another tribute was close by.

Just as she turned to head back into the cave, she was thrown backwards with a muffled gasp. She landed roughly on her back, a heavy weight on top of her. Her sword automatically came up to protect herself; just in time for large jaws to snap inches in front of her face.

She stared into large, beady black eyes. The air was already knock out of her from her fall to the ground, but staring into the eyes of this animal stole every last gasp of air. Her heart felt frozen with fear, her lungs refused to work, her stomach felt like it was bubbling.

She could barely think, but she still managed to call out to Bellamy and Octavia. _"RUN!"_

A large wolf-like Capitol mutt was on top of her. The front paws were planted in the ground beside her face and the back paws were on either side of her hips. Her sword was the only thing preventing this monster from getting its jaws around her head; the blade was horizontally lifted above her face, blocking the mutt.

Her one hand held the hilt of her sword, while her other was pressed against the flat end of the blade. She had to use all of her strength to keep the animal off of her, but she knew the beast would win any second. Slobber dripped from around the blade, falling onto her face.

She could hear rustling in the bushes now, just behind the cave. Things were happening too fast, and all she could think about was Bellamy in the cave.

 _The howling._ With a start, she realized it wasn't part of her imagination; it was real. It was a pack of wolves-like mutts.

Fear gripped her heart and she felt her world tilt sideways. _She needed to get Bellamy and Octavia out._ They needed to escape.

The mutt on top of Clarke pulled back and lunged at her again, the jaws clenching against the metal of her sword. She grunted and gripped the ends of the blade tighter. The edges dug painfully into her skin. She wasn't sure how long she could keep the beast away from her face.

Her world was simply made of fear, teeth, blood and slobber. A chill descended down her spine.

The howling was drawing closer now. The pack was almost at the caves. If they were still here by the time the rest of the pack arrived, she didn't doubt they would make fast work of the three of them.

They needed to get out. _Now._

Clarke thrust the blade up further, struggling with everything in her to keep the sharp teeth away from her face. She could barely breathe from all the effort it was taking her.

She turned the blade to the side, so the sharp edges were pushing against the mutt. She grimaced as her left hand pushed against the edge of the blade, drawing blood.

That seemed to stun the mutt enough for Clarke to roll to the side, pushing it off of her in the process. She rolled onto her knees and swung the blade without looking, hoping it would find its mark.

She heard the mutt fall to the forest floor right after she felt the tug on her blade. She didn't have time to waste to check on the beast. _They needed to get out. They needed to get away._

She was moving before she was properly on her feet, racing back into the cave. She stumbled a few times, but caught herself before she could fall completely.

"Bellamy! Bellamy!" She burst into the cave, her heart pounding in her chest. He was already up and moving towards her, his sword in his hands.

"What's going-"

"Mutts," she wheezed. Her chest felt light and she felt like she might pass out. She landed roughly in his arms, suddenly feeling like she couldn't stand anymore. She glanced up at him and hoped her fear was conveyed in her eyes. "We have to go."

Bellamy stared at her for a long moment, completely frozen. His eyes were wide and brow furrowed. Clarke wasn't sure if he understood the urgency of the situation. _They needed to go._

"Octavia," he snapped, moving towards his sister. She was trying to wake up, but was clearly out of it. She was on watch the full night before; she must've been exhausted. "Wake up. We have to go." He turned to Clarke. "How many?"

"Don't know." She moved across the cave and dropped to her knees, shoving several supplies into a backpack. She made sure to grab food and water – enough to last the three of them a few days. "They're wolves of some sort. Huge. Heavy. Sharp teeth. Terrifying"

She glanced down at her hand and winced. She needed to get some medical supplies too; not just for her, but for the others, if something were to happen. She continued to stuff as many things as she could in her bag.

Bellamy was beside her again, helping her throw things into her bag. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She recognized this look of stone from before. Odd enough, they were at a different cave when she seen this look before, weeks ago.

It was his look of acceptance, of bravery, of sacrifice. Her blood turned to ice. "Get Octavia to safety."

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Her hand faltered, suddenly unable to move. "What?"

"Get her to safety. Promise me," he hissed. He glanced over to where Octavia was grabbing items. "The plan. We'll use the plan."

"The plan?" _No._ While she told him only hours ago that she trusted him and she would go along with his plan, no matter how stupid and against it she thought it was, it was different now. There was a difference between _talking_ about it and _implementing it._

"We split up. We'll meet up at the store." He gripped her shaking hand. She tried not to think about how this might be the last time they hold each other. "Get Octavia out. Okay? Promise me."

Her words didn't fail her this time. "I can't." She shook her head forcefully. "Bellamy, I can't promise that."

"Please," he begged, his voice desperate. He clutched her hand tighter. "You trust me? You said you trust me."

"I do." Her throat felt tight. She felt out of control. "I love you. I'm not leaving you."

His face softened. "I love you, too, Clarke. _And that's why you_ will _leave._ You have to. You have to get Octavia out of here. I have a plan."

Before she could say anymore, Octavia let out a shout. In the mouth of the cave, a lone wolf-like mutt stood. It was so large that it blocked majority of the entrance. She knew they wouldn't be able to escape with it in the way.

 _Shit._ They should've been outside already. What was she thinking? She should've left the supplies and got them out of there first.

"O!" Bellamy shouted. He stood up from the ground, but froze to his spot when the mutt turned to him. The teeth were barred and slobber dripped to the soaked ground beneath it.

Octavia was frozen only feet away from the animal. She had a knife in front of her body, but Clarke wasn't sure if it would be able to help her in this situation. The mutt was so large.

"Octavia," he hissed, his voice low. "Don't move."

She didn't listen to him. She took a single step forward, her knife pointed at the mutt. It let out a low growl and crouched towards the ground, preparing to strike.

"Octavia," he snapped. "I said stay there."

There was another howl. Clarke flinched from it. It was just outside of the cave.

 _How many mutts were there? How were they going to escape?_

Hell broke loose when Octavia lunged at the beast. As soon as she began to move, Bellamy charged forward. Clarke didn't watch the confrontation; she turned back to her bag on the floor, zipped it up and swung it on her back.

When she turned back around, Octavia already was pulling her knife out from the beast, blood splattered across her face. Bellamy was racing outside of the cave, hurdling over the mutt.

Clarke took off after the two Blakes. She kept thinking of Bellamy's words.

 _"Do you trust me? Then trust in my plan. It'll work out. I promise."_

What was Bellamy's plan? To sacrifice himself, just so Octavia could live? She didn't like that plan. She refused to go along with it.

When the three of them burst out of the cave, Clarke felt petrified with fear. For a brief moment, her feet felt like they were rooted to the ground. _They were completely surrounded by mutts._ They were out of time.

Bellamy skidded to a stop, holding his arm out to block both Octavia and Clarke from running any further. Clarke tried to keep calm, but she could feel a haze descending on her.

She didn't know how they were going to get out of this one.

Octavia spun around a few times, surveying the area. Clarke didn't need to. She already knew what was waiting for them; they wouldn't have an escape. They were too late.

They couldn't run. Once again, they were cornered. That seemed to be the story of their lives.

"We'll have to fight," Octavia determined, crouching lower. "There can't be more than a dozen. That's not hard – we can-"

"We're running," Bellamy said, cutting her off. "No more fighting. That's a risk we don't have to take. _We're all going to live._ I'm not putting anyone in danger."

"All three of us?" Clarke prompted, her heart aching. _Please don't sacrifice yourself. Please don't leave me._

He locked eyes with her. "All of us. We'll all get out of this alive. Just trust me, okay?"

With his promise, she nodded her head. "I trust you."

He glanced at Octavia. "You'll take the rear, alright? Just like back home, with Alpha simulator." Clarke had no idea what he was talking about, but Octavia seemed to understand.

"Got it. You're taking the lead?" He nodded. Octavia turned back to the dozens of mutts around them, her eyes flashing. "10 o'clock, Bell. The smallest ones."

Clarke glanced in the direction Octavia was looking in. Sure enough, two small mutts were standing in that position. While they still looked like they were the size of regular wolves, at least they weren't the size of the others.

"What's going on?" Clarke hissed.

Bellamy didn't glance back at her. "We're making a break for it. We're basing it off Alpha Protocol; we're running in-"

 _"NOW!"_ Octavia shouted. She surged forward, racing past Bellamy to block a mutt that leapt towards them. As she did, Bellamy gripped Clarke's elbow and began charging forward. She ran beside him, her sword lifted to strike.

The mutts were attacking from various angles now that they were moving. Octavia took down the one that leapt at them and was quickly following Clarke, watching their back. Together, Clarke and Bellamy took down the two smaller mutts blocking their east exit.

Then, they were running.

Bellamy took the lead like he said, racing forward. The branches whipped against Clarke's skin, making them sting. She could feel her skin breaking open in some places from the force they hit her with, but she barely paid any attention to that.

All she could focus on was running and escaping. All she could feel was absolute gut-wrenching fear as she raced after Bellamy. Her lungs hurt and her head spun, and they barely made it out of the clearing. She pressed her free hand to her gut, trying to subdue the jolts of pain.

Octavia was right behind her, yelling out something to Bellamy. They were shouting back and forth so fast that it was almost impossible for Clarke to follow. They worked together seamlessly, both shifting directions in the same time. Clarke managed to stumble between them.

As they ran, Clarke realized she never seen the Blake siblings work together. She'd seen them in training, but that was only a sliver of what they could do together. When the Careers attacked at the cave, Octavia had sat back, too injured to help. When the Careers attacked them at the apartments, she helped get Murphy to safety and still wasn't up to par. When Bellamy rescued her, she stayed behind.

 _Now?_ Now, it was different. Even though they weren't even _fighting,_ just running, Clarke was blown away by how fast they could communicate, and how easy it was for them to work together. They almost knew what the other was thinking without speaking.

Her heart was in her throat as she ran. She doubted she'd ever run so fast in her life. She could hear the mutts everywhere in the forest. _Was that just her imagination, or were they surrounded?_ The sun hit her in the eyes, making her squint. She couldn't see. The trees seemed to swallow any helpful light, the shadows running alongside them.

She could hear howling from behind. Octavia grunted roughly. Clarke's heart stopped.

She spun around just in time to see Octavia smack into a tree, a mutt right at her back. She skidded to a stop, fear consuming her.

Time seemed to stand still in that moment. _No. Not Octavia. Not another friend._

Octavia seemed to hear her silent pleas. She pushed off the tree, using the momentum to kick a mutt in the face. It stumbled back, giving her enough time to throw her knife at it. The weapon buried itself to its hilt and the mutt slumped to the ground.

Bellamy raced past Clarke, running straight to Octavia. She blew a few loose strands of hair away from her face, completely unphased, and held out her hand. As if waiting for the command, Bellamy tossed his extra knife towards her. She caught it in mid-air without blinking an eye.

Before the three of them could take off running again, Clarke saw something that made her whole body turn to stone.

A handful of mutts were charging right at them. With each second, they were getting closer and closer. Judging by how fast they were moving, she doubted they would ever be able to out run them.

"Change of plans," Octavia announced, crouching low to the ground. "We fight."

Bellamy didn't have any arguments this time. He crouched beside her, his sword raised.

Then, the mutts were on them.

She'd never really seen two warriors like them. They worked together without hesitation, blending together as if they were one. If Octavia moved low, Bellamy went high. When she kicked, he was already there, his sword slicing through the air.

They were seamless and moved faster than she could even comprehend. They made fighting look more like a dance than anything; it was beautiful and breathtaking and terrifying.

Octavia was right when she talked about the two of them in her interview, all those weeks ago. She said they made a good team, that nobody knew them in battle like anyone else.

Clarke never doubted her words. She imagined them fighting together, but it was far from the truth. She imagined them like how Cage and Ontari worked together, but this was different. It was like watching poetry.

 _That is, if poetry could kill her._

They made all of the other Careers look untrained children. She couldn't even begin to wonder how to help them in this combat; she knew that if she tried to join in on the fight, she would just throw them off balance.

This was what they trained their whole lives for.

When the last mutt fell to the ground, both of them were panting. Octavia's blade was embedded into the mutt once again. Octavia had a cheeky smile and she wiped some of the blood from her face.

"Fun."

Clarke couldn't speak. It felt like all the air in her lungs had been sucked out. She was in shock over what she just watched. She knew they were dangerous, but never in her life did she begin to think they would fight like that.

She locked eyes with Bellamy. He was covered in blood from the mutts. His hair was messier than it was earlier, sticking up in every odd direction. His face was hardened, too. In that moment, she was reminded so much of who he was when they first met. He wore this mask around constantly, pretending to be someone he wasn't. He pretended to be a cold-hearted Career that was willing to fight anything and anyone.

When they locked eyes, that coldness seemed to melt away. His eyes softened and his lips twitched upwards.

Their relief was short-lived. A howl came from nearby, sending a jolt down Clarke's back.

 _They weren't done._

Bellamy locked eyes with her. That cold mask slipped on again, hiding his true emotions. She wondered if he was scared. She wondered what he was thinking.

"The plan," he repeated. "We go with my plan, okay?" Octavia was already protesting, but he locked eyes with Clarke. "You trust me – I know you do. This is the best way."

Her heart tugged painfully. He kept promising her that his plan, the plan where they separated, was the best option. How could he be so sure about something? How could he promise these things, when she couldn't promise the same thing?

But he was right. She trusted him. She trusted his judgment. He was always doing what needed to be done to save them, and he promised only minutes ago that his plan would allow all three of them to survive the mutts.

"Okay." She felt her throat tighten with her agreement. She was agreeing to split up. She was agreeing to leave their sides, to race across the arena towards the shop.

"I swear to fucking hell, if you-" Octavia fell quiet when the howl was much closer. She tried a different tactic. "Bellamy, don't be ridiculous."

They were out of time. Clarke could see the mutts in the distance now, drawing nearer. Clarke knew they didn't have any time to argue. She trusted Bellamy's judgment.

His head swooped down and pressed a short kiss to her lips. She hoped with everything in her that this wouldn't be their last kiss.

She cupped his cheek and stared into his eyes, ignoring the world for one last second. "Come back to me."

He kissed her again and her heart ached. "I promise."

The howling was closer. He pulled out of her embrace, his mask coming back on his face. He nodded at Octavia. "I'll see you both soon." He glanced at Clarke. "Go. This isn't goodbye. We'll be okay."

Clarke gripped her sword tightly in her hands, a chill settling over her. Bellamy might have promised this wasn't goodbye, but she found it hard to believe him. They were splitting up to run in three different directions. They'd meet back at the shop, but who knew when that would be? Who knew if they would all make it there?

Clarke glanced at Octavia one final time. She pulled the knife from the mutt and nodded sharply at her. She looked murderous in that moment. She was a red queen, covered in the blood of her enemies, her heart hardened.

The three of them took off running in separate directions. While Clarke moved due east, Bellamy and Octavia both went in slightly different directions. While Bellamy adjusted his course slightly to the north, Octavia went south.

Her blood was rushing through her ears. The forest blurred around her as she ran. She leapt over roots that stuck out of the ground and vaulted over fallen trees. All she could think about was putting as much distance between herself and the mutts as possible.

She hoped Bellamy's plan worked. She hoped the pack of mutts split up between the three of them, making their survival more likely.

 _Please, please, please._

She could barely feel her body as she flew through the forest. She didn't think about how her she ached, or how each branch slapped against her cheek left a mark, or how the sword usually felt heavier and chunkier than it did in that moment.

The forest was absolutely silent except for her panting breaths. She was sure anything in her vicinity could hear how fast her heart was racing. There wasn't a single bird in the trees, nor was there any wind to rustle the leaves.

It was terrifying. Things were so silent that the world felt dead around her.

She could hear branches breaking around her and the rustling of bushes. _The mutts._ They were gaining on her. They'd followed her.

Clarke managed to pump her legs faster. Her jaw was locked so tightly that she felt her teeth aching. She felt like she was going to be sick.

She risked a glance behind her. _Black eyes._ They were so close to her now; she could see the details in them. She could feel the warm breath on her back. She knew that if the mutt wanted to, it could leap on her.

 _Shit._

She clutched her sword in her hand and spun to raise it, moving to defend herself and-

 _She was rolling_.

Her world tilted to the side as the ground under her disappeared. The wind got knocked out of her as she landed roughly on her back. She couldn't tell which way was up or which was down as she kept rolling down a slope.

She skidded to a stop inches before she would've rolled into the trunk of a tree. She was sure that if she didn't manage to catch herself in that moment, she would've broken all the ribs in her left side.

The mutts were bounding down the hill after her. There were two of them, both of them racing in her direction. She knew they weren't real creatures, but they looked hungry. Maybe they were programed to seek out anything that resembled food. She wondered if they would kill her and leave her body, or if they would rip her apart.

Clarke didn't want to find out. Before the world could steady itself, she was climbing onto her feet again, running straight ahead. She shook her head several times and forced her eyes to lock on a tree in the distance, trying to regain her balance.

She wasn't quick enough and she knew it. Even when she was in perfect health and not seeing double, she wouldn't be able to outrun the mutts. Just like earlier, she'd have to stand and fight.

With that newfound determination, she skidding to a stop and spun to face the mutts head on. The only thing she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears. She couldn't feel her body anymore, and she could barely hear her thoughts. Everything had gone numb.

 _It was just her now._

She could do this.

Clarke lifted her sword and charged forward, moving to meet the lead mutt head-on. She tried not to think about the fear that she should've had. The teeth looked like razors, their eyes looked almost-human, their snarls sounded like screams.

She smacked the mutt with the flat-edge of her sword, sending it sprawling to the ground. She turned to the second mutt and swung, allowing her body to carry through, pushing herself beyond the limits of what she'd done before.

Her blade slashed the second mutt, sending it to the ground. Her blade was now covered in blood, having found its mark on the mutt.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the first mutt recoil on its hind legs, preparing to jump through the air. Before the first mutt could pounce on her, she spun around and fell to her knees. She lifted her sword into the air, the tip of the blade pointing towards the orange sky. The mutt was already in mid-jump and couldn't stop.

Warm blood rained down on her from where the tip connected with the mutt. It landed behind her with a loud thud, skidding across the leaf covered forest floor, right into the base of a tree.

She was left kneeling in the forest, panting so hard that she was getting dizzy. Her body was frozen in that position, her sword lifted above her body. She blinked several times, trying to keep her hair and the blood away from her eyes.

It was silent once again. The mutts had gone completely still, leaving her alone. She strained her ears to make sure nothing else was following her.

 _Nothing._

When she was sure she was safe, she let herself collapse forward. Her hands supported her weight as she rested on all fours, her body aching and her lungs burning. She gasped for breath.

Clarke realized that she had no idea where she was. As she fell, she lost her bearings on the directions. Which way was the city? Where did she need to run so she could meet up with the Blakes at the shop?

Fear of death suddenly was replaced with fear of being lost. _What if she never made it back to the shop?_ What if she never figured out which way she was supposed to be headed? What if they never reunited.

 _Hold yourself together._

She pushed off the ground and scanned the forest around her. She was running with the sun directly behind her. While the sun had disappeared almost completely behind the horizon, she could tell which direction was west based on how orange the sky was.

 _Okay. It's fine. See? You figured it out._

She got up from the ground and dusted some of the leaves off the front of her pants. She turned to the sun was behind her and she looked out on the horizon.

If she continued running with the sun to her back, she should be running towards the city. She'd know for sure her exact direction when the city came into view, which should be soon, considering Octavia told her they were positioned right outside of-

 _A scream._

Her thoughts were completely silenced when she heard a gut-wrenching scream. Her whole body tensed up and her heart completely stopped. All the hairs on the back of her neck were standing straight up and her heart felt like it plummeted straight to her stomach.

 _She knew the voice._ It was unmistakable, even though she wished that she could've been mistaken. _Please be wrong, please be wrong._

The screams were coming to the left of her, north of the position she was at. _That_ only confirmed her thoughts more.

 _Bellamy._

She wasn't thinking anymore. She took off running in the direction the scream came from. While it was a short scream, she knew exactly where it came from. She doubted the memory of hearing him shout in pain would ever leave her.

Gods, he sounded like he was in pain. She hoped that she was wrong – that he was shouting because he had a success in battle. Actually, she was hoping that she was _completely_ wrong. Maybe he never screamed at all; maybe it was her imagination.

She found comfort in the fact the canon hadn't gone off yet. If he was screaming or not, it didn't matter; he was still alive.

She didn't slow down. She didn't feel the pain in her lungs or body anymore. She needed to get to him. She needed to be with him.

"Bellamy!" She slowed to a stop and spun around a few times, suddenly feeling very lost. Trees surrounded her – each one blending together. Which direction was he? Did she pass him? Was she headed in his direction? "Bellamy!" Her voice had taken on more desperation as she screamed for him.

When he didn't respond, she felt her heart drop. She'd never felt more panicked in her life – not even seconds ago, when two hungry beasts were chasing her down.

 _No. No, no, no._

"Bellamy!"

He didn't respond, but she could hear growling nearby. _A mutt._ They must've followed Bellamy; if she could hear it, then he was close. She took off in that direction, all thoughts for her safety long abandoned.

She burst into a clearing the size of her bedroom back at the Capitol. She could see a single mutt leaning down on something.

She realized with a start it wasn't a thing, it was Bellamy.

He was sprawled on the forest ground. She couldn't catch a clear sight of him, but the sword in his hand _did_ catch the light as she moved. It was sitting in his hand, lifeless beside him.

She was racing towards him before she could think of anything else. The only thing she _could_ think about was saving him; protecting him from the mutts.

 _Please don't take him away._

Clarke was louder than she hoped for, but it had a desired effect she hadn't even thought of. As she rushed forward, the mutt turned its head towards her, setting its black eyes on her. Its long teeth were stained red from blood and she felt her heart go cold.

The closer she got, the more she seen. Its front paws rested against Bellamy's chest. His limbs were limp and his head turned away from her. She could see his neck covered in blood and she feared the worst.

 _There wasn't a canon. No canon. He's still alive._

The mutt bounded towards her, forgetting Bellamy completely. She didn't hesitate to swing her sword back, plunging it deep through the mutt. A scream tumbled from her lips; from exertion, desperation, anguish – she didn't know. The Capitol invention went limp and dropped to the ground, skidding to come to rest at her feet.

She wasn't thinking anymore. All she knew was that she had to get to him. She had to make sure he was okay.

She didn't bother to pull out her sword. She left it still embedded in the mutt and raced towards Bellamy. Her throat felt tight. She felt dizzy.

 _Oh, gods, this wasn't happening. This wasn't real._

She finally understood what Bellamy told her the other day. She understood the fear he must've felt when he watched her fall while facing Cage. She understood the fear of uncertainty.

 _She couldn't lose him._ She couldn't lose another person she loved.

 _Not him. Not Bellamy._

She dropped to her knees beside his head, her mind already spiraling. Her eyes raked over his body, surveying the damage. He didn't look too bad, which sent relief crashing into her.

 _That was, until she reached her neck._ Her heart fell and she felt herself go numb when she seen how deep the cuts on his neck were. They were pouring blood, staining his skin red, turning the ground below him a brilliant shade of near-black.

Clarke was moving without thinking at this point. If she allowed herself to think, she knew she would fall apart. If she allowed herself to worry, she wouldn't be able to make sense of anything going on.

She needed to stay sharp and distant. She needed to keep herself together, for his sake.

She pushed her hand against the large wound of his neck, trying to stop the blood flow. Within seconds of putting her hand against his throat, it began to seep between her fingers and around his hand.

"Bellamy," she sobbed. Her heart was racing and she felt absolutely sick. She tried to ignore all the logic in her.

(But, a part of her mind knew what his injuries meant.)

She was a medic. She was supposed to look at these diagnoses without flinching. She was supposed to look death in the face and not think twice.

 _But that wasn't her. That wasn't Bellamy._

She knew that it was bad. Nobody could lose the amount of blood he was losing and be okay. She didn't know how long he was bleeding for, but the grass beneath him was stained red.

It didn't feel read. _She didn't want it to be real._

No. No, no, no, no.

 _Please don't be real._

This wasn't real, was it?

"Bellamy," she called again, her voice cracking. His name sounded like a prayer on her lips, begging him to be awake, begging him to be okay.

His eyes fluttered open and he turned his head towards her. The slightest movement caused his wounds to open up more and more blood rushed out to meet her hand. She pressed tighter.

"Don't move," she told him. She let a sound that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sob. She couldn't believe he was awake.

 _That was good._

She could still save him. They still had time. If he was awake, he must not have been bleeding for too long, right?

He ignored her advice and turned his head towards her. His eyelids were nearly shut and his face looked relax, just like the rest of his body. He looked exhausted.

 _Fuck. This was a dream. This had to be a dream, right? A terrible, horrible, gut-wrenching dream._

 _A nightmare._

"Brave Princess," he mumbled. Him talking made him bleed heavier.

Clarke let out a sob at his words. Those were some of the first words he ever spoke to her. It seemed to long ago when they were on the elevator together. They were total strangers back then. They were just kids; they knew what was coming for them in the arena, but they could never have imagined the pain.

"Don't talk," she pleaded. "I need to find something to stop the bleeding."

She lifted her hands off of his neck momentarily, planning to reach for her shirt and rip off a piece to press to the wound, but she didn't make it far. As soon as the pressure was gone, the blood flow increased. He let out a low moan – a moan that she could've mistaken for an animal.

She quickly placed her hands back on his neck. Her heart was racing. She felt her hold on ignorance slipping through her fingers, just like his blood. When she pulled her hands away, she seen more of what lay underneath. Before, all she could see was blood. Now, it was so much worse.

 _He was dying._

It felt like she had been punched in the gut. The realization hit her harder than anything she'd ever experienced before; not even hearing her name called out during the reaping had been this terrifying.

Bellamy was going to die.

Clarke felt hysteria rising inside of her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to break down into sobs.

She wanted to be the one to decide when someone's time on Earth was up. She wanted to control time – she honestly didn't care if she would turn back time to prevent this from happening or freeze herself in this moment forever.

She needed more time. She needed more time to think. _She needed more time with him._

She needed more medical supplies. She needed to be somewhere – anywhere else, other than in the middle of the arena, all alone. She couldn't work like this; she couldn't be putting pressure on him at the same time as she tried to find medical supplies to save him.

 _Oh, gods, she couldn't save him._

Her world was spinning. It felt like she was rolling down that hill again with the mutts chasing after her.

 _She needed to try to save him._

Even though she could see the life leaving his eyes, she had to try. She had to try her best to save the man she loved.

Clarke applied more pressure to the wounds, attempting to stop the bleeding. He let out a groan of pain and his eyes clenched tightly.

 _There was so much blood._

Clarke let out a little sob. Her eyes racked over his body, surveying the damage. His skin was clammy, covered in sweat and coloured grey. His breathing was shallow and ragged. His lips were parted as he struggled to take in the oxygen that he needed.

"No. No, no, no no!" Clarke sobbed. She pressed harder on the wound, but that didn't keep the blood at bay.

He was losing too much.

 _He was going to die._

Clarke felt like time was going by too quickly. The seconds sped by. The arena could've been crumbling around her and she wouldn't have noticed. A tribute could've been behind her and she never would've known.

 _All she could do was stare as the blood ran out of Bellamy._

She had never felt so helpless before. She had never felt so lost, so sick.

She thought of when her father was ripped from her house. She thought about when she had to leave Raven on the roof; abandoning her, sentencing her to death. She thought about having to watch Murphy suffer as he died.

She had felt exactly this helpless before in those situations. She just hoped that she never would have had to feel this way again. It was excruciating.

Clarke let out a sob.

 _It was happening all over again._

Everyone she loved, she lost.

"Clarke…" His voice was strained as raspy. Clarke forced her painful memories away, focusing completely on the man before her. "It's okay. It's okay."

She never even realized that she had started crying. She wiped her tears on the edge of her shoulder and blinked rapidly. She needed to stay focused now. She needed to be able to see him clearly.

She had a choice to make; try to stop the bleeding, but risk him dying without her at least attempting to bring him comfort, or give up hope and hold him while he slipped away.

Clarke looked at the stained grass under her knees.

 _He had lost so much blood._

She only had seconds to make her choice. Try to save him, or give him a proper goodbye?

What would she hate herself least for doing? Try to save him, never say goodbye, and have him die anyways? _At least she would have tried._

Or to spend the last few minutes of his life with him? Even though she would have technically given up and sealed his fate, she would make sure he knew how much he meant to her before he was gone.

It was an impossible choice.

Risk everything for a chance at life? Or give it all up for a chance at comfort and love and a goodbye.

She didn't have the luxury to contemplate it. Time was slipping away from her too quickly.

She was sobbing at this point. Her hands shook. Her chin trembled. She felt like she was broken in a million different ways. The only person that she knew could help put her together again was lying on the ground, blood leaving him faster than she could process.

"Shhh, Clarke," he mumbled. His words were starting to slur together, much like Murphy's did when he was dying. He sounded so tired. "It's okay."

She shook her head. "No, Bellamy. It's not." She forced the tears out of her eyes. She met his. She hoped it wasn't for the last time. "You're- I'm- I-"

"I'm dying," he muttered. She didn't know how he did it, but he managed a weak smile. He coughed and Clarke cringed. "It's okay," he promised. "It's okay." His voice was fading in intensity. She sobbed harder. "Shhhh, Clarke. It'll be okay.

He lifted one hand weakly to hers. His fingers were cold and trembling as they wrapped around hers.

Her heart broke. They used to be so warm. He used to be so strong and so full of life.

(Life that was now falling to the grass below him, staining the ground red.)

Bellamy tugged on her hand gently. She wasn't sure what he wanted in that moment – did he want to hold her hand? If she lifted away, he was going to bleed even heavier. That meant less time to save him.

"Bellamy, I-"

"I'm okay," he promised her. "I'll be okay." Once again he tugged her hand. "You have to let me go."

She sobbed when she realized what he was asking. He was asking her to stop putting pressure on his wound. _He was asking her to let him die._

(It was as if he knew what decision she had been contemplating. It was as if he knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself with either choice she made, and he did it for her.)

Clarke removed her hands from his neck. Instead, she clutched his shaking hand, pulling it to her chest. She wished that she was closer to him – that she could hold him in this moment – but she was afraid that moving him would make it worse.

She couldn't give up. She felt her chin tremble in defiance.

"Bellamy, please," she begged. Tears were distorting her vision. "Please stay awake." She tried to wipe her tears on her shoulder again. _She refused to cry._ She wanted to see him alive for as long as she could. She would not sacrifice those precious moments. "You're strong. You're going to be all right."

"It'll be okay." His words were slurred. His eyes kept fading in and out of focus.

"Stay with me, Bellamy," she begged. "Don't you dare close your eyes on me." She felt her body splitting in two in that moment. " _Please don't leave me._ " She repeated his words back to him, from when they first reunited after Cage and Ontari tortured her.

She remembered her words, too. _"I'm never leaving, Bellamy. That's a promise. We're in this together. I'm with you until the end."_

Maybe this was the end.

"I need you," she said, her heart breaking again. Her vow to remain composed and not cry shattered. She curled in on herself, sobbing over him. "I need you, Bellamy. Please don't go."

"I'm with you," he promised. He coughed again, colouring his pale lips bright red with blood. "I'm here."

He coughed again and blood sputtered out of his mouth, covering his chin and lips. His skin would look like translucent paper.

 _God, he was dying._

She couldn't lose something thing she was fighting for. She couldn't lose him. _She loved so much_. She had lost too many people to count. She couldn't lose him – not Bellamy.

This was it though. _He was not going to be coming back from this._

"Don't give up, Bellamy. You can't quit on me," Clarke pleaded. She grasped his hand tighter. "You can't leave me. _You can't leave me, Bellamy._ Don't leave me, Bell. I- I love you. I love you so much. You can't die."

"I love you."

"I'll tell you everyday," she promised. "You just have to stay with me. I… I'll do anything. Please don't go." She let out a hysterical cry. She was getting desperate. No, she was past that. She'd past that a long time ago. She tilted her head to the sky, staring between the branches. "Please! Kane!" Her heart felt like it had turned to dust. "Diyoza! Please!" She sniffed loudly. "Anyone. _Help me. Please._ "

"Clarke…" Bellamy whispered, his voice weak. "Please." Clarke turned back to him.

"Bell…" She couldn't form the words. She had so much to say. _What could she say?_ The words never formed.

"I know," he replied simply.

He understood. He already knew. He could see the fear in her eyes, he could feel the love in her touches.

He understood. She couldn't say goodbye.

 _Not yet._

"I'll be okay. You'll be okay," Bellamy mumbled. Even moments away from dying, he was trying his best to comfort her. Shouldn't it be the other way around? He smiled weakly at her. Despite being on the verge of death, she could sense the tenderness in it. It made her heart ache even more. Tears were forming in the corners of his brown eyes, and the sight caused her to cry harder. "I love you – you know that, right? I love you, Clarke."

"I know. I love you, too, Bellamy." She gently stroked his black hair away from his eyes. Her hands shook as she did.

"It'll be okay," he promised her again. How could he keep promising these things when it was so clear it was a lie? He was dying. "Watch O for me?"

"Always."

His eyes fluttered shut. He coughed and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes turned to hers once more, desperation set in them. His lips trembled from the effort. _He was so weak._ How did this happen?

"We will meet again," he promised.

She sobbed. He was trying to comfort her, she knew it. He even tried to remember the send-off from District 6 – the one she said to Wells the day after he died. While he hadn't said it correctly, she understood.

 _It was his goodbye._

His eyes wandered skyward as the light in them began to drain, his spark going out. Clarke stroked his hair as he did so, too broken for words. She felt too destroyed to do anything except sob.

When the canon went off, she felt every piece of hope in her shatter. She felt everything in her drain away, leaving behind grief and utter destruction.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. _If only she got here sooner. If only they didn't separate._ "I'm so sorry." She curled over his body, letting the waves of grief wash over her.

Clarke let out another mangled sob before looking up from Bellamy, turning towards the sky. The volume of her scream of pain and anguish echoed around the forest.

Nobody was around to mirror her agony.

 _She was alone now._ She couldn't save him.

Clarke's head hung limply, her forehead swooping so low that it brushed against his.

"May we meet again."

* * *

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are characters that died in the current chapter (none). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
 ** _District 2 Male: Bellamy_**  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **I am prepared for your angry comments.**

 **I'm sure you don't want to hear from me right now (I feel you), but just know I'm very sorry for this chapter and all the paaaaaaaaain.**

 **(Also, remember my promise from chapter 40! This does (eventually) have a happy ending)**

 **As always, thanks for reading! Reviews are majorly appreciated!**

 **Paw**


	49. Chapter 49: Where Do We Go

**Note: song title based off the song by Billie Eilish**

 **This chapter is very angsty, so… prepare yourselves!**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 49: Where Do We Go**

* * *

 _Day 14 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke couldn't pull away from him. She gripped his hand tightly in her own and sobbed. Her throat was raw from all of her screams, her lungs burned, her world felt like it had been tipped upside down.

She didn't hear Octavia calling until she was nearly behind her. Clarke tried to pull herself together enough to face the youngest Blake – the _last_ Blake – but she couldn't. She couldn't look away from Bellamy's lifeless face. She couldn't bring herself to look at Octavia's expression when she realized who the canon belonged to.

Her imagination was enough. She could imagine how shocked and horrifying Octavia would be in that moment. Maybe it was selfish, but she couldn't bare to turn around to look at how devastated she would be. She couldn't bring herself to watch her expression change when she realized her world was shattered.

Clarke felt Octavia drop roughly to her knees beside her. She still couldn't bare to look at her. Octavia's scream of anguish turned Clarke to stone and curdled her blood. It sounded more grief-stricken and angst-filled than her scream only moments ago.

For a moment, they were both still. The forest was silent, apart from the echoes of Octavia's screams. Time stood still, just for a second.

Then, Octavia fell on top of his body, her back shaking with sobs.

Clarke's heart ached watching Octavia fall apart. She clung to Bellamy's side, words tumbling from her lips, so quiet that she couldn't hear them even if she wanted to. She'd never seen her so broken before, not even when she was seconds away from death in that cave. She didn't think she had _ever_ seen anyone so broken before.

And, in that moment, Clarke didn't know what to do. She felt like she was falling apart, like she was set on fire, like her whole heart had been turned to dust. She felt like screaming and begging. She needed to scream. She needed to beg for his life, even though she knew it was over.

 _Bellamy._ Her heart clenched painfully to think of his name. He was gone. She heard his canon. His blood stained her hands and her clothes.

 _He was gone_ and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Instead of falling apart, she reached for Octavia. Clarke loved Bellamy – of course she did – but Octavia loved him, too. He was her brother. He was someone who raised her. Her whole life, there was one constant.

Now, that one constant was laying on the ground, his body completely still.

Clarke wanted to grieve and she wanted to fall apart – she really did – but she couldn't. She couldn't do that when Octavia was falling apart. She needed to be there for her.

And, despite wanting to lay down and sob, she knew that wasn't possible. They were still in the arena. Making so much noise and being so vulnerable was risky. She needed to get them somewhere safe.

"I'm sorry," Clarke sobbed, the words tumbling out of her mouth like a broken record. "I'm so sorry, Octavia."

She didn't move. She clutched at his body, nearly silent pleas still rolling off her tongue. Clarke could barely hear them and she was okay with that – these were messages for Bellamy.

 _No._

 _Come back._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Come back._

 _I need you._

 _You promised._

 _I love you._

Clarke wasn't sure which were whispers from Octavia and which were thoughts in her head. Reality seemed to be tilted on its side in that moment, obscuring everything.

All she knew was Bellamy was gone. Octavia was broken. _She was destroyed._ They were in the arena. They needed to get to safety.

She couldn't bring herself to say these words out loud. She didn't want to leave Bellamy – she doubted Octavia would either.

"What happened!?" Octavia snapped, rounding on Clarke. Her eyes were burning with a fire she hadn't seen before – one filled with rage and hate and anguish. It was a stark reminder that Octavia was a Career – one of the most deadly. Clarke could still see broken glass behind the fire.

She was hurting. That was something she understood.

"The mutts." Clarke could barely form full words. She could barely see, her tears were coming so quickly. "We split – we all split – and… and I came, and _they were here_ – one was here, only one and-" Clarke felt like she was falling apart, and she knew she couldn't be. She desperately clung to those last few strings of clarity. "One was here – at him. I don't know how it happened. I didn't see. I came as fast as I could." She swallowed thickly. "The screaming. I came because of his screaming."

It was those same screams that would never leave her mind. Even now, they were ringing in her ears.

She could hear the pain in them. It felt like she was the one laying on the ground and bleeding when she realized Bellamy's last few moments were ones filled with pain.

Reality hit her. They were still tributes in the middle of the arena. If she could hear Bellamy's scream, so could anyone around her. If Octavia could find them, so could other tributes.

"We need to go," Clarke said. Saying the words out loud sent a jolt of pain right to her heart. _She didn't want to go._ "We need to get somewhere safe."

Octavia turned to her, her eyes broken. While rage filled them moments ago, she now looked destroyed. It looked like _she_ was the one dying.

"I can't," she said, her voice coming out as a partial sob. "I can't leave him."

 _I can't leave him either._

Part of her wanted to curl up beside Octavia and never leave. She never wanted to leave Bellamy because that would be it – that would be their goodbye. Walking away from him would seal their fates, even though they were already sealed.

But she remembered her promise to him. She promised him that she would watch Octavia. With his dying breaths, he asked her to watch her – he asked her to keep her safe.

She knew him. She knew that his one purpose in life was to take care of Octavia. He gave up his dreams for her. He gave up his life for her. He followed her into the Games, with the only goal being to protect her and ensure her victory.

His life was comprised of making sure Octavia was safe.

 _She was going to do that._ She was going to keep her promise to him – she was going to take care of her now, even though Octavia was more than capable of being on her own. She was going to watch her, and be there for her, and be strong for her.

"We're not safe," Clarke said, her voice a little stronger than before. Tentatively, she reached out for Octavia. She didn't know her well enough to know what she needed while mourning, but this was all she could offer. She couldn't bring Bellamy back. She couldn't do anything that she needed. All she could do was show he she wasn't alone. "We should continue with a plan."

"The plan didn't work," she said, glancing down at Bellamy's body. Clarke refused to glance in his direction. She knew that, if she did, she would break. She couldn't do that. She had to stay strong. For Octavia. For him.

"Not Bellamy's plan," she said. His name tasted like acid. It was something she loved so much, but saying it brought so much pain. _He was gone._ "A new plan. We stick together. We get somewhere safe. We rest up."

Octavia glanced up at Clarke after a long moment, waiting for her to finish. _Clarke was finished though._ She didn't have a plan past getting out of the woods.

"And?"

"And nothing. We need to go. We can plan more later – now isn't the time." Clarke swallowed thickly. "We stick together – that's all I know."

Octavia's chin trembled. Both women grasped each other's hand, a mix between a vow and comfort forming in that moment. With heartbreak, Octavia spoke. "Together."

 _That was her promise with Bellamy._ She hoped this time around it wouldn't be broken.

"Together."

As they left the small clearing in the woods, Clarke couldn't help but look back at him – one last time. She tried to stay numb as she did; otherwise, she knew she would fall to pieces.

There lay a man that was so beautiful, it hurt – a man that was so good, the world didn't deserve him. There lay a man – so selfless, so kind, so passionate, so unfairly taken. There lay a man that she loved.

 _Loved._

* * *

Bellamy left a gaping hole in both of them, that much was clear.

They managed to get to the city as the sun was almost gone behind the horizon. It took longer than either of them would've liked, but it was to be expected. As soon as they were far enough away from his body, they heard the Capitol hovercrafts, and they watched.

It was heartbreaking. They watched as his body was carried out of the arena. It was as horrible as the sound of the canon. Watching those hovercrafts was further proof that he was truly gone and never coming back. It was like the final seal.

 _Dead._

 _Gone._

As the hovercraft flew away, Clarke couldn't help but utter the words that had become so familiar to her in the arena.

 _"In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again."_

A goodbye, even though she wasn't ready to say it. She forced the words out then – she knew she would regret not giving him a proper sendoff if she didn't.

Octavia was silent after that. While she'd been falling apart when hunched over Bellamy's body, she grew distant and cold the further they travelled.

 _Clarke knew it was coming._ When Lincoln died, she did the same thing. She was still mourning him, even only hours ago.

She mourned alone. She mourned in silence.

They walked through the streets of the city, a weight on both of them. Clarke felt like she was suffocating. It felt like she was seconds away from scattering in the wind – pieces of her soul riding the breeze like leaves on an autumn day.

She was right, all those day before. The city was cursed. Ghosts walked the streets.

 _Everywhere had ghosts._ Especially now – especially after losing him.

As they ran through the forests, she couldn't help but think of Bellamy dying beside a tree. She could almost see his body tangled in the roots, covered in mud, broken beyond repair. _She couldn't help but think of how she didn't run fast enough to get to him._

As they entered the field surrounding the city, all she could think about was how Bellamy came to save her. She thought of how he saved her then, yet she couldn't save him only moments ago. She thought she lost him when the Careers tortured her, but he came back for her.

 _He wasn't coming back for her now._

And, as soon as her feet touched the stones of the ground of the city, she thought of how many times she ran these streets with him at her side. She thought of how they'd laughed in the rain when they took their day trip to the Cornucopia, she thought of how he comforted her after Wells died, she thought of how he helped keep her steady after the explosion at the apartments.

She thought of how many times they'd ran these streets together – how many times she took for granted that his presence was there.

 _Now, he was gone._ She would never run these streets with him again. _Oh, gods, it hurt._ It hurt so much that it made her want to scream.

Bellamy was gone, and she'd never get to do any of those things with him again. All those shared moments – that was it. Their time together was in the past, and it felt like her heart was being ripped out.

Instead of falling to pieces like she wanted to, she focused on the world around her. She scanned for tributes and for mutts. When Clarke was sure she couldn't take anymore of running from her thoughts, she pointed to the closest building. "This one?"

Octavia gave a sharp nod.

They entered the building, neither one of them bothering to do a complete sweep of it. Clarke didn't have the energy to climb up the several flights of stairs and check all the floors. She barely had enough energy to scan the bottom floor.

The bottom floor was simple enough. Clarke assumed this must've been a school at one point, as the building was long and had multiple rooms. Abandoned desks and chalk boards littered the rooms, giving Clarke the impression even _more_ ghosts were following her.

When there were no obvious sings of tributes being around, they both collapsed in the furthest room. She knew it wasn't the best building to hide out in; there was a single hallway from the front doors all the way to the back. Dozens of rooms branched off of the hallway – one of which they were staying in.

But it was the best she could do. It felt like she was cracking in half. Octavia was barely upright. The sun had long set. The demons were out, clawing at them.

Clarke dumped her backpack in the corner of the room, as did Octavia. Somehow, they managed to save two bags of supplies.

 _They managed to save the supplies, but not Bellamy._

Maybe things would have been different if she went with her gut instinct at the cave – when she first felt something wrong.

Maybe she shouldn't have wasted so much time packing damn supplies – she should've got everyone out before the pack of mutts found them.

Maybe she shouldn't have argued with Bellamy over his plan. If she just went along with it, like she did in the end, they would've saved time.

 _Maybe he would still be alive._

She couldn't take it anymore. Not talking made her feel like she was going to split in two. "I couldn't save him." With these words, her voice broke. "I… I couldn't save him. It's my fault." She was a medic, she should've been able to save him. _She didn't come soon enough. She wasn't faster. She wasn't smarter._ People died – Bellamy died – because of her mistakes. "Octavia, it's-"

"Shut up," she pleaded, her voice also breaking. "I… No. This isn't on you, Clarke. This isn't your fault."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Clarke could barely stand. She felt like a hole had been carved out inside of her. All she wanted to do was curl up and cry.

Sob.

Mourn.

Grieve.

"I didn't believe Murphy when he was dying," Octavia said quickly. "About how fucked up this is. About how stupid the Games are." She wiped at her cheeks. "I mean… I knew. I knew it was wrong. I never wanted to be here. And I loved people that died – people from these Games, people from previous Games." Her eyes darkened. "But… This… Bellamy-"

She never finished her thoughts. As soon as she said his name, she let out a heartbroken sob and stumbled forward, falling into Clarke's arms.

She caught her and both their weapons went tumbling to the ground. Clarke's eyes locked on Bellamy's sword only inches away from her toe. Octavia grabbed it when they were leaving, and now it felt like it was haunting her. It was another memory of him – of someone she loved and lost.

Her dad's watch, Wells' letter, Bellamy's sword.

Broken things, broken bodies, broken hearts.

Maybe keeping his sword was a good thing. Maybe having a piece of him around was a good thing. Maybe it would make things easier. Maybe it would make her feel like he was still around.

She'd glance at the sword and think that he was just out to collect more water. He would still be coming back. He wasn't dead. _He wasn't dead._

Pretending things were okay wasn't a permanent solution – she knew. _But she didn't have permanence either._ Her life was temporary. Each day was a surprise. Each second was loaned time.

Pretending that he was coming back wasn't a healthy way to cope. She didn't have time to worth through her grief.

If Octavia was going to win, _she_ would have to deal with this. She would have to mourn her brother and learn to live without him.

That was something Clarke wouldn't have to do.

She never could survive to begin with, so she would never have to live a life without Bellamy. It was truly fucked up that she felt sorry for Octavia in that moment – sorry that she would have to live long enough to deal with the pain.

"It's okay," Clarke promised Octavia, even though it was a lie. Both of them knew it was a lie, but each found some comfort with it. "We're okay."

They both fell to the floor. Octavia clung to Clarke, sobbing. All Clarke could do was hold her, and beg that she would have the strength tomorrow to stay strong.

Her body shook from silent sobs. Her body felt like it had been exposed to the burning sun for days, or like an eagle had torn her to pieces, or like every bone in her body had been broken. She'd experienced pain like this before, but it never got easier.

 _Losing someone she loved never got easier._

She never understood why they called it heartbreak. As she clung to Octavia, sobbing, it felt like every inch of her body had been broken. It wasn't just her heart – oh, how sweet that would be. _No._ It felt like it was deep inside her bones. It felt like this anguish ran with her blood.

Later that night, when the anthem was playing, Clarke couldn't look at the sky. _Bellamy's face would be there,_ and she couldn't do it. She knew she should've – she should've said goodbye one last time, she should've looked at him one last time, but she couldn't.

The stars used to bring her freedom and peace. Now, she doubted she'd want to look at the night sky again before she died. Somehow, Bellamy managed to worm his way into that part of her life. She used to look at the stars before she even knew him, but somehow, they seemed like they belong to him now.

Then again, she wasn't really surprised.

The stars had become their thing, in a way. They'd sat together on the room, staring out at them, dreaming of going to them. They looked at them and talked about futures they could never have – about lives that were stolen from them.

The night sky belonged to him.

They sat in the arena, talking about tea, and eggs, and how different life would be if they lived in an alternate world. They stayed up all night on watch, talking about anything that crossed their minds, the stars always above them.

The arena belonged to him.

He'd managed to do that in every aspect of her life. She'd only known him for a few weeks, but he left marks across _everything_ in her life. It felt like she was surrounded by him.

The watch on her wrist reminded her of how they first began to understand each other.

Her sword reminded her how he was the one who taught her how to fight.

The city streets reminded her of the many times they went on an exploration trip together.

 _He was such a big part of her life, and now he was gone._

How could someone just go like that? How could they be here one moment, gone the next?

 _How?_

She fell asleep, with her arms wrapped around Octavia and sorrow in her heart.

* * *

 _Day 15 in the arena_

* * *

The next day, the sun seemed duller, the birds seemed quieter.

Clarke didn't know what time she woke up. The room was shrouded in darkness from the lack of windows, but she didn't feel rested. There was a pain in her heart and a weight across her chest.

Before she remembered exactly what happened, she knew something was wrong. She didn't have that brief moment of bliss that she usually got when waking up.

She always used to rely on the single moment when she was still partially asleep and awake – this moment made everything seem like it was okay, even if it wasn't. She'd never remember what was wrong. All of her troubles would have vanished, just for a brief moment.

 _But not this time._

As soon as she began to wake, she felt sick.

She didn't get that bliss.

She didn't get ignorance.

She knew he was gone.

Octavia was still pressed into her side, fast asleep. Clarke hoped that, when she woke, she'd have that brief state of bliss. She hoped that she wouldn't be robbed of that one last moment, where everything seemed to be okay.

Clarke's eyes locked on the ceiling and she fought down the emotions. It was harder to do than the day before. It felt like something was lodged in her throat. She burned from trying to keep her emotions at bay. Her eyes stung. Her heart ached.

She knew that today would be a rough day. It would be the first one without Bellamy. She'd survived without him in the arena before – twice, actually – but this was different.

Those other times, she knew he was out there. There was a strange comfort that came with knowing he was somewhere in the arena with her. Looking back at it, she never felt truly alone, because she knew he was there.

 _He wasn't anymore._

He was gone.

This time, she was truly without him. She felt empty and cold, like _she_ was the one who lost all the blood, not him.

 _She knew Octavia would have it worse._ Her whole life, there had been one constant.

Bellamy.

From the day she was born, he was there. She'd never had to live a day without him, or experience life without him by her side.

He raised her. He took care of her. He was the one who provided for her when others couldn't. He was the one who came to the arena after her, willing to lose his life in the process.

 _(Who did lose his life in the process.)_

He spent every day of her childhood with her, and every moment there on out. There wasn't a period in her life without him beside her.

 _Except now._

For the first time in Octavia's life, she was without Bellamy. Octavia was the strongest person Clarke knew – this was without a doubt – but she knew how hard this would be for her. This would be hard for anyone, but especially for people as close as the two of them.

"You're up?" Octavia questioned, shifting beside Clarke.

She tried to force on a fake smile, but she knew she failed. In that moment, she would've settled for a guarded expression, but she knew her grief would be nearly impossible to hide.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

Octavia turned onto her back, choosing to stare at the ceiling alongside Clarke. "No. Couldn't stay asleep forever." Her voice held a tone of longing, like she wished she could've stayed sleeping. At least that way, the pain wouldn't be gnawing at her. Octavia was silent for a long moment. "Did you see him in the sky?"

"No. I couldn't go look." Clarke swallowed thickly. Maybe that was the wrong choice. Maybe she should've went to look. Another day, another mistake. "Did you sleep okay?"

"No." Clarke couldn't even smile at her brutal honesty like she used to. "You?"

There was no point in lying. "No."

They were silent for a long while. Clarke didn't know how long it was. She didn't even know what time of the day it was. In that moment, it seemed insignificant. She was so absorbed with her grief and her mourning.

She thought Octavia fell asleep, she was so silent and still. She flinched when she next spoke. "He loved you, you know," Octavia said after a long moment.

Clarke's mouth went dry at the words. Her throat grew tight. "I know," she said, her voice raspy. _It was true._ She knew he loved her. She couldn't help but think of their final words together – telling the other how much they loved them.

 _"I love you – you know that, right? I love you, Clarke."_ She could almost hear his voice saying those words, and it was torturous.

She closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. She willed her voice to remain steady. "I loved him too."

 _So much, yet not enough._ Bellamy deserved a whole lifetime of love. He deserved to wake up every morning and be told how loved he was. He deserved to grow old with a wife – to have a million kids like he wanted.

She wanted that with him. A future.

She never had the luxury to dream of a future. That is, until she fell in love with Bellamy. With him, things seemed possible. The future seemed tangible, even if she knew it really wasn't. With him, it was easy to dream.

There was never anyone else in her life that she _wanted_ to grow old with. She wanted to wear a ring on her finger, she wanted to wake up beside him every morning, she wanted to have a million kids with him. She wanted them to be a family – for them to be together.

It was never possible, she knew. With him gone, it was a harsh reminder of how impossible those things were.

"It wasn't just words though," Octavia continued speaking. For the first time since the mutts arrived, Clarke could hear something other than anguish or rage in Octavia. It was something softer. "I've never seen him like that before. He takes so long to trust. He takes so long to drop his walls and for his layers to fall back. But he did it almost immediately with you."

Clarke thought back to all the nights on the roof and all the secret moments in the hallways. She thought about all the moments that were stolen from them, if only they weren't tributes – if only they lived among the stars.

"I understood him," Clarke said. _Understood._ Using past tense made his death feel so final. She spoke with a lump in her throat. "We understood each other. It felt like I knew him for more than a few weeks. It felt like we had known each other for our whole lives."

She fell in love with him so easily. She never believed in the concept of soul mates before – she didn't really now, either – but after being with Bellamy, they seemed a little more likely. If she ever had a soul mate in the world, he would be it.

With him, time was irrelevant. Time was something she held onto so tightly – it was something that kept her centered while in lock up. To her, saying time didn't matter was world changing.

 _But it was true._

She knew him better than anyone, including people she spent her whole life around. It was beautiful and terrifying and heartbreaking all at once.

"He told me that he wished that things were different," Octavia continued. She wished things could be different too. "That we could all survive the Games. Grow old together. As a family." Clarke's heart clenched at that. _She wished their lives could have been different._ She wished they could've had that. "That's all he ever wanted. A family."

 _A family._

The three of them, their kids; that would be their family.

A family they could never have.

Despite the scorching pain licking at her heart, she managed to smile. "I would have liked that."

They both fell silent after that. Clarke continued to stare at the ceiling, her heart feeling like it was shattered into a million pieces.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are characters that died in the current chapter (none). If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax

 **This chapter is probably my least favourite from this fic, and I honestly don't know why. This chapter took me actual _months_ to write. I just couldn't do it. So, if it feels a little choppy, that would be why!**

 **Also, fun fact, this was the last chapter I wrote for this fic! I wrote the last ten chapters out of order, and this ended up being the last one I wrote. Wild!**

 **Only three more chapters left! These three chapters are some of my favourites from the whole fic and shit is about to get wild so… I'm excited.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Paw**


	50. Chapter 50: The World Around Us

**This was one of my favourite chapters to write because of how vivid everything was in my head.**

 **Warnings: violence and gore**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 50: The World Around Us**

* * *

 _Day 16 in the arena_

* * *

Clarke felt numb. She knew she shouldn't have been forcing her emotions away – she knew she needed to grieve.

 _But she couldn't._

She was still a tribute in the arena and with every passing second, danger was growing closer.

 _Bellamy was dead._

Her heart still ached at that thought. Other than the pain in her chest, she felt numb. It was like her mind had gone silent.

Or, rather, she'd forced it to be silent.

She'd experienced heartbreak before; she wasn't a stranger to losses and death. She'd watched as friends died. She had lost more people that she loved than the amount which remained.

 _Her father. Wells. Charlotte. Raven. Monty. Lincoln. Murphy._

Now, Bellamy's name was added to that list.

She knew what it was like to love and lose. She knew what it was like to hold someone as they died; she did it with patients, she did it with Atom, she did it with Murphy, she did it with Bellamy.

She understood death more than most people her age would. She fought to try and prevent it, yet everyone she loved either betrayed her or was dead.

In that moment, Clarke felt like death followed her around like a cloud. She felt like death was a plague that hit anyone close to her.

 _She felt like the commander of death._

Maybe it was safer not to love anyone. At least that way, nobody would die. At least she would be spared this pain.

The thought was fleeting.

 _She didn't really want that._

She remembered Wells' words from only a few days before he was murdered.

She remembered trying to hold back from loving him. She didn't want to fall for him or care for him. She was scared. _"It's like he holds a piece of my soul and… and I can't let him hold anymore. I can't let myself fall any more for him. I can't. Because he'll die, or I'll die. And then what? It'll all be for nothing."_

 _"Love is never worth nothing," Wells told her. "Love is the reason why we fight. Love is the reason why we survive. Without love, we have nothing._

 _"Don't be afraid to love, Clarke. That pain afterwards? That's just a reminder that you were lucky enough to love them. The hole you feel when someone dies – that shouldn't be feared. That just proves that they were loved enough to leave an impact on someone. Don't be scared of the pain that'll come with losing him. Love passionately until the second you die – which could be at any moment. We're about to die – why stop yourself from being happy?"_

He was right. Even weeks after he died, he was still leading her right and guiding her through her pain. Weeks after she lost him, it still felt like Wells was beside her, comforting her like he always did.

In a way, he was still with her. He would always be with her.

 _Just like everyone else she lost._

Jake.

Charlotte.

Luna.

Monty.

Lincoln.

Murphy.

Raven.

Bellamy.

She would gladly take this heartbreak for the next dozen years if it meant she got to know them. She wouldn't trade their time together for the world; not even a world without pain.

Because she loved them, and she got to love them. _She loved him and got to love him._ And, even though her heart was heavy and her body ached, she still loved him.

She remembered reading a quote back home, when she was studying still; _'How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.'_ That was in a children's book by A. A. Milne. She never fully appreciated the truth behind those words until that moment.

Still, she couldn't ignore the heaviness in her heart. The grief was drowning her. She felt like she hadn't come up for air in days.

Her eyes burned; she wasn't sure if it was from unshed tears or if it was because she'd been staring at the same point of the ceiling for what felt like hours.

She was numb and unfeeling. It was like she was still asleep.

She hoped she was still asleep. That meant she could still wake up; it meant that this could still only be a nightmare.

Octavia stirred beside her. Clarke wasn't entirely sure if Octavia had gotten any sleep the night before. She knew that she hadn't.

The two girls didn't speak. Clarke wasn't too sure what to say to her, exactly. They were both exhausted and emotionally spent. They sought comfort with each other the day before, and held each other through the night, but now, she wasn't too sure what to say.

They were the last two of their alliance. They were part of the final five in the arena.

 _District 1. District 2. District 5. District 6. District 10._

 _Onatri, Octavia, Clarke, Echo, Dax._

That was all that was left – just the five of them. Nineteen tributes had died before them.

That came with a burden Clarke didn't want to bear. She wasn't supposed to be here – she was supposed to have died weeks ago. She wasn't supposed to still be alive.

Why was she still alive, but so many other people – good people, people who deserved to win – weren't? Why did she survive until the final five, but Raven didn't? Why did she get to live longer, but Wells died so soon? Why did Murphy have to suffer, but she continued to breathe?

It wasn't fair. She never had a chance. _They did._ They all had a chance to become the Victor – they all had the opportunity to go back home, to get back to people they loved.

 _Wells could return to his dad._

 _Lincoln could go home to his sisters._

 _Raven could go back to her friends._

 _Monty could reunite with Jasper._

She thought a lot about them and their lives. While she didn't know them for long, she knew they all had people back home that loved them. She tried to imagine what they were like. In some ways, it made her feel closer to everyone she lost.

And then there was Octavia. Unlike her other allies, she _knew_ Bellamy's family. She didn't know how close Monty was with Jasper, she didn't know how Lincoln's sisters reacted, she didn't know Raven's friends.

 _But she knew Octavia._ She knew how close she was with Bellamy. She knew how she reacted when he died.

She was broken. It was as simple as that. She hadn't spoken a word since the previous night and that worried her.

 _Then again, maybe she was a hypocrite. She didn't dare speak, either._

What really worried her though was the fact she didn't move, not even to eat or drink. They didn't have a lot of supplies, but they had enough for the two of them for at least a few more days, especially if they rationed.

She needed to eat.

"Are you hungry?" Clarke asked, sitting up. Her head spun and ached. She _was_ a hypocrite; she hadn't been drinking as much water as she needed. Between the crying and the heat, she'd lost a lot over the last few days.

Octavia didn't say anything. She was on her side, facing the wall, a knife twirling between her fingers. She looked emotionless and empty, like she wasn't truly there.

"Octavia?" Clarke pressed. "We need to eat." When she didn't respond again, she switched tactics. "We have some unopened packs of dried banana chips. That would be good, wouldn't it?"

She hesitated so long that Clarke was sure she wasn't going to say anything. Then, she let out a heavy breath. "Sure."

The tension in Clarke's shoulders dissipated and she reached into the bag by her feet for the fruit. While she didn't know Octavia like Bellamy knew her, she remembered them talking about fruit during one of those many nights on watch. They were from a southern district, which meant they had access to more fruit than Clarke could even imagine. She remembered him saying Octavia's favourite was banana.

She wished she knew what Bellamy's favourite fruit was.

Octavia sat up and took the package. Her face was poufy from all of the tears – Clarke assumed she looked the same. Losing Bellamy took a toll on both of them. He was the one who brought them together, he was the one that made them feel like they were home.

It was different without him. Colder, somehow.

Clarke made her way over to the corner where they dropped their bottles of water. It was where they dropped a lot of things, really. Bellamy's sword was there, as was hers. Then, there was Octavia's knives.

It was strange, having an abundance of supplies. She was so used to rationing all the time. It was what they had to do, with a group as big as theirs.

From nine tributes to two. They lost seven of their allies during the time in the arena.

Clarke tried to pretend the pattern on the hilt of Bellamy's sword was very interesting, trying to keep her thoughts from spiraling again.

She didn't have time. Octavia needed her. She was the only one left in the arena that Clarke could help win – she was the last of her allies. She already knew she wasn't going to become Victor. She wasn't surviving for herself. She was surviving for her.

Maybe that's why she survived until the end. Maybe it was because the Capitol wanted to see her suffer. Maybe this was all just penance for her crimes. Of course, they wouldn't let her have an easy death.

 _It wasn't the first time Clarke thought that._

"You want water?" she called over her shoulder, reaching for the bottle closest to her.

 _Just as she did, her world changed again._

She felt the floor shift underneath her and dust rain down from the ceiling. She could feel a rumble in her chest, almost like she was standing too close to an approaching train. It was like she was being shaken to her core.

Her hand was frozen, still outstretched towards the bottle of water. Her heart was racing as she tried to figure out what was going on.

The ceiling cracked. She could hear loud bangs and crashes coming from outside. The noises were getting louder. It was like a stampede was coming their way, knocking down the buildings like bowling pins.

It was Octavia who put the pieces together. "Earthquake!"

Clarke jumped out of the way as a piece of the concrete ceiling was dislodged from above her. It hit the floor where she crouched only a moment before, sending up a wave of dust. Her skin stung from the sharp pieces of rocks that were thrown at her.

She was facedown on the ground now, her forearms scratched from sliding across the dust and rubble. Her heart was racing and her chest was heaving.

 _That was close._

Octavia was beside her then, latched onto her arm. She pulled her up, helping her onto her feet. "We have to go!" she yelled, her eyes wide and panicked.

Clarke didn't realize how loud the noise had gotten until she tried to speak. She had to yell to even hear herself.

"Run!"

She pushed Octavia forward, sending her flying towards the door to the room they were staying at. Another piece of rubble – a larger piece – cracked away from the ceiling and smashed to the ground. The walls of the room were shaking now, the singular crack from earlier spider webbing into a mess.

Octavia reached forward and scooped up Clarke's sword from the ground, already running through the door. Clarke was hot on her heels. While Octavia had silently claimed Bellamy's sword the day before, it was now laying, partially buried under what was once the ceiling.

She reached between pieces of the rubble and pulled the sword free. Her other arm lifted up and cupped around her head, shielding herself from falling pieces.

Her eyes were burning from the dust. It felt like she was choking, too.

Clarke raced out of the room, only feet behind Octavia. She had to hurdle over large chunks of the building between the room and the outside. Twice, she had to lunge out of the way as a piece of _something_ fell towards her.

The building was going to collapse. While she wasn't as skilled as Raven when it came to design and structure, Clarke didn't have to be to realize this wasn't good. Pieces were falling to the floor, the walls were turning to dust, her whole body vibrated from the building.

Clarke burst through the front door. She was momentarily stunned as the sun hit her eyes, but she continued running forward. If her suspicions were correct, then the building was going to come down behind her. They both needed to be as far away as possible when that happened.

Octavia must've stopped as soon as she escaped the collapsing hallway. Clarke caught her wrist as soon as she was beside her and began to pull her along.

The two of them raced from the building and down the cobblestone street. All around them, pieces of buildings were raining down like water in a storm.

 _The whole city was coming down._

Clarke realized this with a start. She glanced all around her and was terrified to see _all_ of the buildings crumbling. A few blocks away, a tall building was already crumbling in on itself, a cloud of dust spreading like a tidal wave.

"Where do we go!?" Octavia screamed, pulling Clarke's arm. "We-"

She was cut short when Clarke pushed her forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she seen a piece of mildew covered concrete falling from the sky, heading right for them. Clarke shoved Octavia out of the way and she dove in the opposite direction.

The rubble hit the ground between them, sending pieces of shrapnel everywhere. Clarke let out a grunt as several pieces were lodged along the back of her legs.

She was bleeding. Thankfully, they were all superficial wounds. She couldn't be sure about the wounds along her back, but the scrapes along her arms were all fairly minor.

Clarke didn't have time to think about anything else except surviving.

She rolled onto her feet again, coughing wildly from the dust in the air. She lifted her arm up and pressed her inner elbow against her mouth, desperate to filter some air.

"Octavia!" She pulled her arm back to yell for the Blake. She hoped she managed to push her out of the way quick enough and far enough away.

The buildings were coming down faster now, and more frequently. The one they had been hiding out in let out an ear-piercing _crack_ before it began to cave in on itself. Another wave of dust hit her, making her feel like she was suffocating.

"Octavia!"

Clarke stumbled around the large piece of rubble that now separated them. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as her eyes tried to rid themselves of the debris in the air.

She felt sick. She felt dizzy. She was still disoriented from having dove out of the way, but she felt like her balance was off too. The ground was still shaking.

Clarke knew this was generated by the Gamemakers back in the Capitol. This was one of their ways to force tributes together and to entertain the sponsors.

A canon sounded and she felt her heart stop. _Please. Please, no._ She was terrified that the canon was Octavia. _Please not another friend._

She finally climbed around and over the piece of rubble. Her eyes kept scanning the sky. She was terrified by the fact a piece of building could come out of anywhere and kill her.

She caught sight of Octavia and a wave of relief crashed into her. She felt herself cry harder at that. She was on the ground still, but she was alive and all that mattered. She looked almost grey from all the dust that covered her. Even her hair, which was a brilliant black, was grey.

It reminded Clarke of winter, when a snowstorm would blow in. When she walked home from school and caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window, snowflakes stuck to every inch of her body.

Most shocking was the blood that ran down Octavia's arm. It was made even more terrifying in contrast to the dust on her body.

Whoever the canon belonged to, it wasn't Octavia. That was all that mattered in that moment. Another tribute must've got caught in the falling buildings. She hoped it was Ontari.

Octavia pulled back her left hand from her upper right arm, grimacing as the amount of blood pouring down her arm increased. Clarke could see a piece of rubble lodged into her bicep. She didn't know how big it was, or how deep it went, but it must've been painful.

 _Shit._ They didn't have time for this.

The two of them locked eyes. "We have to move!" Octavia shouted. Clarke couldn't agree more.

Clarke helped her to her feet and took off running. More and more dust filled the air. It was terrible. Even as she covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, it was nearly impossible to breathe.

They had to get away from the buildings. Those were the biggest danger. They were collapsing – all of them. She could see a few blocks in front of her now; just like behind her, those buildings were tumbling down. She watched in horror as one didn't collapse in on itself like the others; it toppled to its side, knocking down several others like dominos.

Nothing was safe – not here. She could barely feel her legs now from the vibrations. Buildings were falling over, rubble was raining from the sky, dust was choking.

"The forest!" Clarke yelled over her shoulder.

She made a beeline east, heading towards the closest edge of the city. They only had to run a few blocks before they would be in the field that surrounded the city. That was the goal. The less stuff trying to kill them, the better.

Clarke kept a hand on Octavia as they ran. They had to stay together. They almost got separated already by the falling piece of building – they couldn't leave each other's side. Not now. Not when she promised Bellamy she would take care of her – not when she promised herself that Octavia would be the one to win.

They had to get away from tall buildings.

 _Now._

Clarke yanked Octavia to the left, pulling her out of the way of a smaller chunk of cement that fell from above.

She recognized this area. She ran here once before, a week and a half ago. She was with Bellamy at the time and it had been raining (water, not rubble). That was the day they almost died at the Cornucopia.

They were close to the north of the city now. She didn't know how the hell they got this far up – weren't they headed east?

Clarke didn't care.

"Follow me!" Clarke ordered, racing ahead of Octavia.

More buildings were coming down. More debris was falling.

Her head was spinning. Her heart was racing.

She couldn't breathe.

Finally, they burst onto a very familiar street. Octavia must've recognized it too, as she let out a startled gasp.

This was the street the thrift store was located. This was where Bellamy and Clarke had camped out, all those days ago, the day before they lost all their allies. This was where Murphy died. This was where Clarke left them.

The buildings were lower now, but they weren't out of the danger. She still couldn't breathe. The ground was still rumbling. She was disoriented.

The dust clung to them like spider webs, making it impossible to get clean air. She could see the cloud spread forward too, headed into the forest that met the city. They needed to get away from all the dust – they needed to find clean air.

Almost as important as that, they needed to get the dust off of them. She imagined that even if they managed to escape the large dust cloud, the dust that stuck to them would make breathing impossible.

 _Water_.

She promised herself she would never go back to a pond again, but that was the only place Clarke could think of at the moment. It was the pond that Octavia had been to, when she was collecting the seaweed to try and save Murphy.

If they could make it there, they could jump into the water and get the dust off. Maybe they'd be able to breathe better then.

She made up her mind. She knew what lurked in the water, but her fear of suffocation trumped that.

It wasn't too far of a run to the pond. The ground stopped rumbling, too, which made staying upright easier. As they got closer to the water, Octavia must've realized what she was planning on doing.

"Clarke! The mutts!"

"I know." It was almost impossible to speak. Her mouth tasted like chalk. "It's our only option! We need to get this dust off of us – we need to breathe." Octavia made a noise of agreement. "Stay close to the edge. Be fast!"

Clarke jumped into the water as soon as she was close enough. She was so desperate to wash away the dust that made it nearly impossible to breathe that she didn't even think of letting go of her sword in that moment.

She hit the bottom of the pond, having jumped into the shallow end. Mud flew up around her, turning the water murky. As she was below the surface, she heard Octavia jump in beside her.

She broke the surface, gasping for breath. It was easier to breathe, if only by a bit. The air was dusty – she knew that would be the case for miles – but it wasn't as bad as inside the city.

Clarke turned towards the city, her heart still racing.

Rather, she turned to where the city _used_ to be.

It was gone now.

Buildings were still toppling over in the distance, but it was clear that nothing would be left standing.

Clarke could still feel a thin layer of dust covering her face, so she dunked her head back under water. With the one hand not clutching Bellamy's sword, she scrubbed her skin and her hair, desperate to shake the dust from it.

She glanced over to the side while she was underwater, looking towards the centre of the pond. Just like the other pond she had been in, this one seemed to drop off quickly and turn black. She knew what was beyond that ledge; the decomposing bodies of Capitol mutts.

That thought was enough to get her out of the water.

She hauled her body onto the shore, her chest heaving. Between running and the panic, _plus_ not being able to breathe from the dust, her lungs were burning and her head was spinning.

Octavia pulled herself onto the shore beside her. Her arm was still bleeding heavily and she clutched it. Clarke rolled onto her side to examine it.

It was deep, like she feared. She hated thinking it, but it looked like it would be better to leave the rock _in_ her arm. She knew it must've been painful for Octavia, but pulling out a projectile in that shape and that deep would cause major problems. She knew she could stop the blood flow without suturing it up, and they had abandoned all of their supplies back in the building.

The building that was now destroyed.

Clarke let out a tiny laugh – one of irony – as she rolled onto her back again. Not even an hour ago, she was thinking about how much supplies they had.

 _Shit._

They'd have to start from scratch. Now, the Cornucopia was not accessible. It was in the centre of the city; she doubted it would've survived the earthquake and all of the falling debris. Even if it did, she didn't think there would be a way to access it.

All they had were their two swords and the clothing they wore. _That was it._ They had abandoned all food, water, weapons, and medical equipment back in the room.

Clarke tried to explain to Octavia that she couldn't do anything about her arm – not yet, at least. "Maybe if we find some medical equipment," she offered. Octavia didn't seem too impressed.

"Just yank it out, Clarke. I don't scream."

"That's not the point," she insisted.

Octavia frowned. "Well, it hurts like hell. I'm going to pull it out."

Her hand shot out, taking Octavia's and holding it away from the wound. "Don't. I won't be able to stop the bleeding."

"Well, let's hope Dax, Echo or Ontari also got hit with rubble and aren't as smart as you," she commented, wincing as she tried to lift her arm. "This is my sword arm, you know. This is really shitty."

Clarke tried not to show her fear. "It'll be fine. I'm sure you won't need to fight anyone, anyways."

"Right," Octavia said dryly. "Because we _aren't_ the final five and the Capitol didn't just fucking destroy half the arena to force all the remaining tributes together."

Clarke's hands went numb at that.

 _Shit._

She was right.

"It'll be fine," she assured her, lying between her teeth. "Just… Stay close."

It turned out that it was most definitely _not_ fine.

Clarke and Octavia were both soaked from their jump in the pond. Her clothing stuck to her in the most uncomfortable ways. At least when she last was in the pond, she wasn't wearing any clothes. Now, she was wet and freezing and miserable.

Just when Clarke thought things couldn't get any worse, it did.

A branch snapped from behind the two women. Clarke's heart froze.

 _Someone was there._

She realized it a second too late. A knife came soaring out from between the branches, spiraling through the air. It missed both Clarke and Octavia by a longshot. It flew into the water with a splash and sank below the surface.

Clarke turned around to see where the knife came from.

She was expecting Ontari, if she was being honest. She'd always had an obsession with the two of them and it just seemed like an Ontari-thing for her to be here now, attacking them once again.

Clarke was almost glad it was Dax instead.

Her grip tightened on Bellamy's sword and her heart rate once again skyrocketed. This was the first time she'd seen Dax in the arena and she briefly wondered where he was during the last two weeks.

His temple must've been hit with a piece of debris, as a thin stream of blood trickled down the side of his head and down his neck. Other than that small injury, he seemed fine.

 _Perfect._

He must've been hiding out in the city. He was covered in dust, just like Octavia was a few minutes ago. Unlike her though, he wasn't majorly injured.

Actually, he looked ready for a fight. _He looked bloodthirsty._ He clutched an axe in his hands. The tip glinted from the sunlight and Clarke had to squint to see it. The blade was sharper than anything she'd ever seen. She had to wonder if he spent the last two weeks sharpening it.

For a brief moment, the three tributes stood silently in a triangle. Clarke had Bellamy's sword lifted into the ready position he taught her, while Octavia held her sword with her left hand. She looked awkward and clumsy already, and she hadn't started moving.

 _This wasn't good._ While it was only Dax, Clarke remembered watching him during training and thinking how terrifying he looked with the axe. He was large enough to crush Cage with his bare hands, which was saying a lot.

Even worse, he seemed to only have eyes for Octavia. He was glaring at her, his nostrils flared. _She couldn't protect herself if he attacked her._

Oh, no.

 _Oh, shit._

"Clarke," he said. She halted momentarily, too stunned that he knew her name. She never heard him speak before, either. His voice was low and scratchy. Then again, that could have been from the dust.

Her surprise must've been the reaction he was hoping for. As soon as she lowered her weapon the slightest bit, he charged. He wasn't heading for her though; he was headed for Octavia.

 _No._

She couldn't fight – not like that, not with her arm still bleeding.

Clarke charged forward, her sword outstretched to meet his axe. As she did, she realized she had no idea what the hell she was doing.

She'd never fought someone without a sword before. She'd seen Monty use axes before, but he never fought anyone. She didn't know how Dax fought – she didn't know how to match his blows.

It was too late to think of a different plan.

Her sword collided with the curved edge of his axe. It banged right off of her blade, and slipped off of it. _That_ wasn't what she was used to.

Dax must've been anticipating that, as he sidestepped and continued to move forwards. He was still headed to Octavia.

While she looked like she as ready for a fight, Clarke knew the truth. She wouldn't be able to defend herself.

"Go!" Clarke screamed. She could already see how this was going to play out. Dax was going to keep coming, over and over, until he reached Octavia. She couldn't keep him away from a target so close.

If she was further away, that would be a different story. She'd have more time to take Dax down before he ever reached her.

Octavia needed to get out. She needed to run – to get to safety. Once she killed Dax, she could join her.

"What-"

"Go!"

She slashed her sword through the air and the tip caught the edge of Dax's elbow. He snarled and turned to face her. _Good._

Octavia didn't budge.

Dax charged at her, his axe high in the air. Clarke lifted her blade just in time to defend it.

"I'll find you later," she promised. Clarke grunted as the axe swung down on her, hard. She was stunned briefly. Even though the blade never touched her, each blow to her sword still felt like an impact. "Run!"

 _Protect Octavia. Protect Octavia. Protect Octavia._

Clarke didn't have time to watch Octavia to see her run away. She hoped that she was smart enough to listen to her and get out. If she stuck around, things would only be worse.

Dax snarled as he swung his axe through the air. Clarke didn't lift her blade to meet it this time, she stepped backwards and rolled to the side, missing him completely.

He was thrown off balance by not hitting her, but he righted himself before Clarke could use it to her advantage. While he was distracted, she glanced away from him.

She could see Octavia's back disappearing into the trees. Relief flooded her.

It was short lived. Clarke jumped out of the way of another swing from Dax, wincing when the tip of the blade caught her bicep. She could feel warm blood trickle onto her arm. Goose bumps erupted across her skin.

She didn't know how long she could keep this up. She was exhausted from running from the city, she was dizzy from the shifting ground, and she couldn't find an advantage on him.

She was out of her element fighting against a different weapon. Bellamy only taught her how to fight against swords – all the steps he taught he was based around a sword. He taught her where to stand, how far away to move, how the blade could curve through the air. He taught her how to defend herself against a straight blade, not a curved. She knew how people moved in combat when they swung a sword, not an axe.

She tried to calm herself as she blocked blow after blow.

This wasn't any different, not really. He was still flesh, blood and bones. He was still only human.

 _(He was still human.)_

She could figure out a weakness of his, she could use it to her advantage. It didn't have to be different than what Bellamy taught her. Right? If she didn't want it to be different, it didn't have to be.

Clarke could tell that he wasn't completely balanced when he swung. Both of his hands were on the hilt of the axe, which meant his body moved from right to left. He was always shifting his weight from the right foot to the left.

 _Okay. Good._ Bellamy always taught her to keep her legs bent and her weight evenly distributed, otherwise it would be easy to knock them over. She could use this.

Without a second thought, Clarke charged forward. She'd been here before; once during training, another time at the cave. If she could throw her opponent off balance, she could have the upper hand.

She shoved her blade against the hilt of his axe, having stepped inside his swinging zone. Her blade hooked under the curve of the axe, locking it to her weapon and making it obsolete.

His eyes were wide. He was panicked.

She stepped closed to him again, pushing her chest right up to his. Her foot hooked behind his ankle and-

 _Pain._

White, searing hot pain.

She gasped and her eyes flew open. Her body went completely rigid.

 _She couldn't think._ It felt like her brain had short wired; almost like she dropped a toaster into the kitchen sink.

 _All she could think of was the burning pain in her stomach._

Bellamy's sword slipped from her grip, sending it falling to the ground. Clarke blinked wildly as she looked up at Dax's eyes.

He was grinning.

Her brain was foggy, but she could understand what was happening. _He stabbed her._ His one hand – the hand that she wasn't paying attention too because it didn't hold the axe – held a knife that was plunged into her torso.

His axe was on the ground, too; somehow it had become dislodged during their fight. Or maybe he dropped it. She didn't remember.

His hand came up to rest on her shoulder, almost like they were two old friends reuniting.

Then, in one fluid motion, he twisted the knife and yanked it out.

 _The pain tripled._

She couldn't stand anymore and she crumpled to the ground. Her lungs refused to work. It felt like she had been dunked into a bucket of ice water; her whole body had froze up around her. She couldn't remember how to breathe.

Her fingers pressed into the wound desperately, trying to hold the blood inside of her. It slipped out between her fingers and ran down her wrist, dripping into the grass below.

 _This was it._ This was the end. She knew she wouldn't be able to come back from this – not without a medic and not without medical supplies.

 _She was dying._

A numbness descended on her.

Dax was walking away, leaving her for dead. She still couldn't breathe. She couldn't call out for Octavia to run. She couldn't warn her that she failed.

Her mind was going fuzzy. She felt cold. All of her heat drained from her body alongside her blood.

Dax was feet away from her now, his back towards her. He was bending down to pick up his perfectly sharpened axe. He was already looking north, in the direction that Octavia ran.

 _No._

She wouldn't let him get to her. Octavia was her last friend – her last promise. She promised to protect her. She promised she wouldn't rest until she was Victor.

 _No._

She could taste blood on her tongue now, and she knew that wasn't a good sign. He must've hit an organ or two when he stabbed her.

 _She was going to die._

But, when he was straightening up, the axe in his hand, all of that faded away. She didn't care about her pain, or how cold she was. She didn't feel her fear, even though she was absolutely terrified of death.

All she felt was the desperate need to protect someone she loved.

With a scream, Clarke lunged off the ground, throwing herself at Dax's unbalanced and unprepared body. She wasn't sure where the energy came from – maybe it was her last surge before she died, she wasn't sure.

He went tumbling forward from her momentum. Her hands were locked around his neck, but her grip was weak. She could feel the blood pouring from her stomach and down her legs, now.

It didn't matter – not anymore.

They were tipping forward, right into the pond.

Her world tilted sideways. She felt like she was dying, or falling, or dreaming.

Water rushed up her nose when they hit the surface. She sputtered as she tried to replace the water in her throat with air. Her hands were still pathetically locked around his neck.

He tried to shake her off of him. He almost did. He was so much stronger and healthier than her in that moment.

Her legs wrapped around his middle. If she wasn't so close to dying, she would've found it funny. It looked like he was giving her a piggyback ride, like they were merely children playing a game.

Her fingers dug into his throat, desperately clawing at it.

They both were out of weapons. He must've dropped his axe when they were falling into the pond and she imagined it was already at the bottom of it. She left Bellamy's sword on the shore, still sitting in the grass from where she dropped it when she got stabbed.

His hands were on top of hers now, trying to pry her fingers away from his windpipe. She begged herself to muster up some more strength, to just _crush it,_ but she couldn't. Or wouldn't. She wasn't sure. Her head was too fuzzy to tell the difference between impossible and morally wrong.

He must've realized he wasn't getting anywhere with her hands. He swung his head back, smashing the back of his skull into her nose.

Her mouth filled with more blood. From the shock, she let go of him completely. Her legs unhooked from his torso and she didn't have to contemplate crushing his windpipe anymore.

Her hands flew to her face, and another ripple of pain passed through her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

 _She was going to die._

His hands were on her throat now. They were clumsy, like he didn't know what he was doing.

Clarke wasn't done. She was going to fight until every piece of life left her. She wasn't giving up easily. She wound up her arm, and, just as she was about to swing her fist to his nose, _she felt it._

Cold fingers wrapped around her ankle. Nails dug into her skin, hooking into their prey.

He must've felt a hand wrap around his leg too, since he went completely still. The hands around her neck went slack, and his eyes widened with horror.

He locked eyes with hers. For a second that seemed to last an eternity, they stared at each other.

He looked terrified.

She smiled.

 _Gotcha._

Then, they were dragged underwater. She went willingly.

This was part of her plan; get him in the water and let the hands drag them to the bottom of the pond. _Get him in the water so he could drown_.

The only problem with her plan was that _she_ was going to have to drown too.

It didn't bother her as much as it should have. Some part of her brain registered the fact that she was already dying from all the blood she lost. If she was already dying, what did it matter how she went?

Besides, if this was the only way Octavia could survive, she would be okay with that. She'd sacrifice herself a million times over, if it meant saving someone she loved.

As she was dragged to the bottom of the pond, she thought of the whole situation. She was so willing to die for others, yet all of her friends died. _Wells. Monty. Lincoln. Raven. Murphy. Bellamy._ They all died, even though she had been willing to die for them.

Not this time, though. She would die for Octavia.

 _And she was okay with that._

Dax flailed above her, still attempting to fight the dead hands off. She could see the panic in his eyes as more and more hands collapsed onto him, dragging him further and further below the surface.

While she was limp as she was dragged down, he fought with everything in him. He kicked and he screamed and he thrashed.

Even though she was calm, her heart was racing. Her lungs were burning already. She could feel the pressure of the water on her ears and pain radiated through her whole body. The water around her was red from her blood.

That attracted more dead hands. She tried to stay by Dax. She was going to use this to her advantage – she was going to use the wound _he_ gave her against him.

The water was cold again, just like it was that day. And it was dark. She didn't know if it was just murky or if it was because sunlight couldn't reach this far down.

She could still see Dax though – she made sure to stay beside him the whole time. She could still see the hands she once feared – the flesh all grey and rotting, the nails yellow and sharp, the bones brittle and green.

When she hit the bottom of the pond, she was barely holding on to consciousness. Black spots danced in her vision, her head spun, her thoughts were quiet. Was she dying from blood loss, or was she passing out from the lack of oxygen?

It didn't matter.

She was dying.

She always knew this time would come. She always knew that she'd die in the arena – she knew that nearly a month ago. And, she was okay with it. She didn't want to die – no, if she had the option, she would still be back home, and she would still be living, not drowning.

But she was okay with dying, as long as Octavia lived.

The sunlight was hitting something shiny at the bottom of the pond. While it was nearly impossible to see anything else down there, she could see a silver blade.

 _Dax's knife._ That was the knife he threw at her when he was entering the clearing. It missed both her and Octavia and splashed into the pond.

Maybe luck was on her side today. _(Even though she was dying, which she considered fairly unlucky.)_

She still only had a single dead hand wrapped around her ankle, while Dax had half a dozen holding his limbs to the muddy ground. Maybe it was because he was still fighting them.

She picked up the knife and drifted over to where Dax lay. He looked hopeful for a second, like he believed she was going to save him with that single knife. He looked at her, like she was going to fight away all the monsters for him.

 _But he was the monster._

She shoved the blade into his heart. His eyes widened and his body went rigid, both from shock and from death looming over him.

Hands shot out of the mud, reaching for both her and him. The extra blood must've woken them up.

She was pulled towards the ground, her back hitting the slimy mud once again. She stared up at the surface, desperate to catch one more glimpse of the sky before she died. It was distorted by the water, but she could see it.

 _It was a beautiful day to die._

Seconds later, when she heard the canon faintly, she thought maybe _she_ died. Her brain was too foggy to realize that it was Dax's canon.

 _Dax was dead._

Her vision was fading out now. The edges were tinted black. Her eyelids were heavy; just as heavy as the rest of her body. With that canon, it was like the remainder of her energy was drained away.

She was bleeding. She was drowning. She was dying.

A second canon rang out and she knew her fate was sealed.

When the darkness came to consume her, she was okay with going.

 _And so she went._

* * *

 **Confused? That's okay! Things should become clearer in the next chapter.**

 **To clarify, there were three canons in this chapter. The first canon was when Clarke and Octavia were still in the city, but they don't know who it belonged to. I'll tell you out-right that it was Echo. I never wrote it into the fic, but I head-canoned this death to be due to the fact she was hiding high up in a building (the perfect spot for her archery). She didn't have enough time to get down to the ground and run.**

 **TRIBUTE LIST: The bolded ones are the tributes that are characters that died in the current chapter. If a character has died in a previous chapter, they will be removed from the list. If you forget who has died in a previous chapter, feel free to ask me or look back at the notes of previous chapters!**  
District 1 Female: Ontari  
District 2 Female: Octavia  
 ** _District 5 Female: Echo  
District 6 Female: Clarke  
District 10 Male: Dax_**

 **The next update will be on Monday, April 22! And then the final chapter will be here on April 23! If you follow me on any social media, you would know I'm extremely sentimental, so be prepared for a long message at the end of chapter 52!**

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated. Since I'm curious, I'd loooooove to know your theories regarding this chapter!**


	51. Chapter 51: Let's Just Go

**Sorry for such a late update! Thank you to those reviews of concern. All is well with me! I just didn't have access to my chapters to post over the last few weeks! Thank you for being so patient and I'm _so_ sorry for leaving it on a cliff-hanger! **

**This chapter might be unexpected for most of you. If you guessed where this fic was headed, I AM IMPRESSED and this is my virtual high-five.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 51: Let's Just Go**

* * *

Clarke woke up with a jolt, her heart hammering in her chest and dread clouding her mind. Her eyes flew open and her scream got trapped in her throat. She was inexplicably terrified in that moment.

She took gasping breaths. Terror gripped her. Why did she feel like she couldn't breathe? Why did it feel like she was drowning?

As she struggled to catch her breath, her eyes swept across the room wildly.

 _Where was she?_

She was so terrified that she felt petrified with fear. Her blood felt like it was ice in her veins and her heart felt like it had turned to stone.

She didn't recognize where she was. The ceiling was white and sharp pain in her eyes from looking at it. She flinched away and tried to ignore the headache blossoming across the back of her head.

Clarke turned her head to the side and squinted, trying to survey her surroundings. Her knuckles groaned from gripping the grey blanket draped over her body.

It looked like she was in a hospital room. She spent enough time in clinics growing up to be able to recognize one. There was a green curtain pulled shut at the foot of her bed, isolating her from the outside world – whatever the outside world was. The room was silent, the floor was a shiny linoleum, and the walls were a crisp white.

What really sold the deal was the heart monitor beeping steadily behind her and the I.V. taped to the back of her hand.

 _What the hell?_

A different type of fear hit her – one that didn't petrify her, but made her want to _get out._ She didn't know where she was, she didn't know what medicine was being injected into her, she didn't know what day it was.

She was terrified. She needed to get out.

Clarke pushed herself into a sitting position, but quickly fell back into the bed. Her lungs had completely froze and black spots danced in front of her eyes.

 _Fuck._ That hurt.

As she tried to stop her vision from spinning, her hand dragged across the scratchy blankets to rest on her torso. That was _definitely_ where the pain was originating. It felt like a white-hot rod had been left inside her, making her head fuzzy.

The cloth bandage wrapped around her waist was scratchy and thick. It was wrapped snuggly around her middle and layered with gauze padding.

She licked her lips and dug her head back into her pillow, her mind too foggy from the pain to keep up with everything. Her fingers pressed against her torso and she winced. Her jaw tightened and she could feel tears pricking her eyes from the pain.

 _Pain. Blood. Ripping. Falling. Water. Drowning._

It came back to her in a rush.

Clarke's hand froze against her bandages as the memories came rushing back to her.

 _Dax stood in front of her, her sword locked against his axe, their arms fighting to be the strongest. Then, she was filled with burning pain – pain the seemed to melt her brain and light her skin on fire._

 _A knife. There was a knife._

 _She remembered it now. She remembered it being pulled from her torso, dripping in her blood. She fell to her knees, suddenly her body being too weak to hold herself up. Just as she thought she didn't have any more energy to keep fighting, she remembered Octavia._

 _Octavia. Her last friend. Her last promise. Bellamy's sister._

 _She remembered jumping off the ground, lunging at Dax's retreating back a few feet away._

 _Then, the pond. They fell into the pond. Her hands were wrapped around his neck. Or were his wrapped around hers? She couldn't remember. All she remembered was tasting blood and death._

 _One thing she did remember clearly was being dragged under the water. The hands she once feared – the hands of the Capitol mutts – gripped her and Dax._

 _Darkness. Ice. Acceptance. She didn't remember much after that. Then, she plunged a knife right into his heart._

 _He was dead. She was dying. Drowning. Bleeding._

 _Blood was all around her in the water. Who's was it? Was it his? Hers? She didn't know._

 _It didn't matter._

 _She was dying._

 _She remembered looking at the sky, searching for the clouds or the stars, searching for Bellamy. She remembered her vision darkening and her head pounding. She was tired, so tired._

 _And then she was gone. She died._

She died.

 _What the hell?_ If she was dead, how did she end up here? If she was dead, why was she sitting in a hospital room?

Not even her fear and confusion could push all of her thoughts away though, unfortunate for her. Thinking of Octavia – thinking of dying – brought memories of him back.

 _Bellamy._

 _His blood was warm in her lap. Her fingers trembled as she pressed against his neck, begging the blood to stop flowing. She cried and told him to stop talking – to just hold on._

 _And then he was gone too._

Her heart still ached. It felt like her whole chest was caving in from the pain. Her throat felt tight.

She pulled her thoughts away from Bellamy. It wasn't easy to do, but it was something she was getting used to. For the last few days of her life, she could only survive by refusing to think about him.

 _Last few days of her life._

It was strange to think. Was that the truth? Was she dead?

Somehow, that thought should've disturbed her more. Was this an afterlife of some sorts? Was she a ghost?

She didn't have time to contemplate it, which was probably for the best. Something clicked from behind the curtain and she froze; it was a sound she heard more times than she could count. A lock was being turned.

She was locked in here? Was this a cell?

A thought even more terrifying came with it.

 _What if she was back in District 6?_ What if everything that happened over the last month – the training, the fighting, the deaths, the arena – what if it was all a dream?

 _What if Bellamy was all a dream?_

No. No, no, no.

She tried to keep the world from tipping around. No, that wasn't right. If she dreamed everything, why wasn't she in her old cell? This might've been similar to those four walls back home, but it wasn't the same.

No. It was real. And, even though that came with the pain of losing everyone she loved, she was glad it was real. At least she knew them. At least she loved them.

Then, she was dead. If the arena was real, she died.

That couldn't be right either. If she was dead, why would she be in a place with a lock on the door? If she was dead, why could she still feel pain? If she was dead, there wasn't supposed to be anything – not any of this.

The door clicked opened and Clarke quickly scanned her bedside for something to defend herself with. If she wasn't dead and she wasn't dreaming, then the only other place she could be was in the arena.

 _She never escaped._ She was still in the Game.

She welcomed numbness that came with this realization.

Clarke yanked the I.V. needle out from her hand, barely noticing the pain. Once whoever had her locked away got close enough, she could stab them and make an escape. The needle wasn't long, but it was all she had to work with.

She curled her hand around the needle, hiding the sharp object from whoever was entering the room. She braced herself to lunge off the bed; her heel dug into the thin mattress and her free hand pressed against her slashed torso. She hoped she'd be able to keep herself together and fight off the pain long enough to kill whoever this was and escape.

"Clarke Griffin."

She froze.

 _She knew that voice._ While it wasn't who she was expecting – she was expecting Ontari, in all honesty, she _did_ recognize that voice.

The curtains were pushed back and Clarke was even more confused than before.

Clarke's mouth ran dry. "President Becca."

She recognized the President of Panem instantly. It was hard not to know her face, having spent most of her life living in the country Becca ruled over. She spent years idolizing her, too. She was so young when she first became president – she was the youngest President of Panem ever.

People loved her, including Clarke. She tried to make change and she tried to do good, or, that's what her father told her, anyways. He met with her on more than one occasion to discuss future plans for the country and sustainability.

Becca was a good and fair leader. She didn't just speak to the rich sponsors across the districts, or the powerful from the Capitol. She addressed everyone; from the poverty-stricken in District 12, to the workers in District 8, to the power hungry in District 2.

Clarke remembered listening to Becca speak at the tribute parade weeks ago. She remembered being underwhelmed by her. She wasn't the person her father talked her up to be; she was clearly manipulative. Each word she said was valued heavily, and had a double meaning.

Why was the president in the arena? Or, more likely, was Clarke even in the arena?

"What's going on?" Clarke tried to sit up. She had to bit her inner cheek to keep from calling out. She hid her pain behind a stone mask. "Where am I?"

Clarke watched her closely. Becca smiled in what was supposed to be a reassuring way, but it sent a chill through her.

Becca must've sensed her dream. "You're safe, child." She pulled the curtain shut behind her and moved to the end of Clarke's bed. She bent over, her hands clutching onto the railing there.

Clarke knew she had to be careful here. Becca was powerful and manipulative. Nothing she said should be trusted. Everything had a double meaning with her, she already knew that. Even if she was out of the arena, she still had to play the game.

"I don't understand." Clarke pulled her feet towards herself, inching away from her. "I don't know what's going on."

It wasn't smart to admit not knowing something in front of enemies, but Clarke was so confused and so overwhelmed that the thought of lying never even crossed her mind. She needed answers. She needed clarity.

"Do you know who I am?" Becca pressed. Clarke nodded her head. "Do you know who you are?" Once again, she nodded. "Do you remembered what happened?"

 _Dust. Blood. Pain. Knives. Loss._

"I remember a lot of things," she said, trying to stay vague. Why was she asking her? What was she digging for? Clarke felt like she was a lab subject being poked and prodded at in that moment.

She didn't feel safe. She needed to get out.

"Don't be scared, Clarke." Becca turned her hands towards her, her palms up. They were empty. Was this supposed to make her feel better? Was the fact she wasn't carrying a weapon supposed to make her trust her?

She was in charge of the country that sent her and two dozen other children off to die only weeks before. It was because of Becca that her friends died. It was because of her that Bellamy died.

 _That she died._

She didn't trust her.

"What's the last thing you remember," Becca asked again, clearly still digging for something.

Clarke caved. "Blood."

Becca pursed her lips. "Blood?"

"Lots of blood." Clarke lifted her hand from her torso, her palm turned upwards. She had bled through the wraps around her middle, staining her palm red once again. "My blood. Dax's blood. Blood of my friends, blood of my enemies." Anger was rising in her. She had to bite her tongue to keep her sharp words away.

 _Play the long game._

"You remember the fight?" Becca seemed to ignore Clarke's hostile tone.

She narrowed her eyes and curled her fingers against her torso. "I remember dying."

"You didn't die." Becca's answer was quick and dismissive, like they were discussing the weather and not a human life. The breath got knocked from Clarke's lungs. She moved around the bed and sat down near Clarke's feet. "You're here, talking to me, aren't you?"

"I remember dying," she insisted. She tried to remain expressionless. "I couldn't have survived that injury. I… No. I lost too much blood."

"Do you remember your Games?" Becca pressed further.

 _Of fucking course I remember them. I remember the pain you put me through. I remember all the people I loved that died. I remember all the blood I am soaked in._

She didn't dare speak.

When Clarke remained silent, Becca continued. "I was impressed with your time in the arena." She smiled softly. "I took personal interest in you. I know I'm not supposed to play favourites, but I would've bet on you if I could have."

 _What a liar._

Once again, Clarke didn't dare speak her thoughts.

"You reminded me on myself, in a way," she continued. "You led a pack of nearly a dozen tributes – all from different districts around Panem. You had the two tributes from District 3, the two from District 8, the male from District 5, the two from District 2, and the female from District 4. You united a group of people that _never_ would have been friends, all in the name of survival. Not many people could say the same."

Clarke's heart hurt at the mention of all the people she lost. She tried not to let the emotion show.

"You won the hearts of a lot of people by being so willing to sacrifice yourself _over and over,_ just so your allies could live. You faced challenges – seemingly impossible challenges – and you never backed down. You looked death in the eyes dozens of times, but you still kept coming back. Your heart, your courage, and your passion are what carried you forward."

"Love," Clarke corrected. Her heart stung. She didn't know why she was telling Becca this; it wasn't because she trusted her, but maybe it was because she wanted the record straight. She didn't carry on for herself; she carried on because of her love for her friends and for Bellamy. "That's what kept me going. It wasn't my heart, and it wasn't my passion, and it definitely wasn't my courage. It was because I love those people in there – all the people you just listed – and I wanted to see them win."

She noticed her mistake too late. She _loved_ those people. They were all dead now.

"You wanted to see one of them become Victor?" Clarke nodded stiffly. "I know many people who felt the same way for you. They wanted _you_ to become Victor."

Clarke wanted to laugh. _Becca was a liar._ Nobody wanted to see her be Victor – nobody in the Capitol, anyways. They all knew she had to die. She knew she never had that opportunity.

Yet, here she was, allegedly alive.

When Clarke still didn't speak, Becca pushed further. "I wanted you to become Victor." She smiled. It looked genuine, but Clarke wasn't convinced. "Although, I'm happy Octavia won."

Clarke felt her heart stop. _Holy shit._

"Octavia won?"

"Just a few hours ago," she admitted. Clarke couldn't breathe. "She took out Ontari in a great final battle. She's still unconscious and in the med-bay, but she'll live."

 _Octavia won._

Clarke felt like she could cry in that moment. She only wished Bellamy knew that his sister survived. He scarified everything for her to live, and it was all worth it. His singular goal was achieved. _Octavia was safe._

Clarke felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, too. She promised Bellamy to try to help Octavia. She promised him on his dying breaths that she would watch out for her and take care of her.

 _She died trying._ She died trying to keep her promise to Bellamy. She died trying to keep Octavia safe.

Or not died.

She was still confused about that.

"Why am I still alive if Octavia is Victor?" Clarke questioned. She was even more confused than before. If she didn't die in the pond and she wasn't in the arena, what was going on? "Only one can survive, but both of us are out of the arena. Right? I'm not hallucinating this?"

"You're not hallucinating," Becca promised her with a small laugh. Clarke wanted to scream at her, to beg her to stop playing with her emotions. _Tell me the truth._ "You were pulled from the arena after Dax attacked you. You lost a lot of blood, but the medics here took care of you. You're lucky we got to you when we did. Things could've been a lot worse."

She was alive, but Clarke still didn't understand. "But I'm not the Victor?"

"No."

"Octavia is."

"Yes."

"So, why did you pull me out?"

Becca stood up from the bed and walked back towards the railing at her foot. She grasped the poles and leaned forwards, her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked entirely too human and too normal in that moment. It made Clarke uncomfortable.

The silence that stretched between them was thick. Finally, Becca blew out a long breath and smiled.

"Bellamy Blake made a deal with me," she admitted.

Clarke's world stood still at this admission. She felt sick to her stomach.

 _Bellamy made a deal with Becca? How? Why? When?_

"He-" Clarke shook her head. Her throat had completely closed off at this point and she was unable to speak.

She didn't understand. Why did Becca promise Bellamy anything? When did she even have time to _meet_ Bellamy?

This didn't make sense. She didn't understand.

"Bellamy made me promise to get all three of you out of the arena alive."

Clarke's heart ached at that. While she was still confused about the whole thing, her heart ached for him. He was the one to arrange this deal, but he wasn't here to see it. Octavia had won on her own right and escaped the arena, she was nearly murdered and saved, but he was dead.

She watched him die. She held him as he died.

 _He deserved to be here. He deserved to live._

"You lied to him." Clarke couldn't help but speak her mind on this matter. Venom tinted her voice. "You said you promised to get all three of us out alive. You failed."

"I failed?" Becca echoed, her voice suddenly chilly. She straightened up and crossed her arms. "You don't know me, but I know you. You don't trust others easily. You loath the government of Panem – including me. But, I promise you, I always keep my word, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke's mind was buzzing. If she kept her word, that would mean-

No. She wouldn't allow herself to even _think,_ never mind hope. Hope was a dangerous thing, especially when it came to survival.

Her mind was spinning. It felt like she watched from a different world as Becca pulled open the door to the room once again and mumbled something to the Peacekeepers in the hallway.

Bellamy was dead. She watched him die. He was dead. She felt him take his final breaths. He was dead. Bellamy was dead.

 _But he wasn't._

When Becca stepped back into the room, he was behind her.

He wore Capitol issued clothes, much like he did when they fell in love in the Capitol. He was covered in bandages, including one across his neck, and he looked exhausted. His eyes were red rimmed and his jaw muscles tight.

Still, she could see the light inside of him. The corners of his mouth turned upwards as he seen her; slowly, at first, but then it quickly broke into a full grin. He reminded her of a golden sunset in that moment, and it stole the breath from her lungs.

She didn't know how many times they had been separated and reunited over the last month, but she was hit with the same emotions every time. A torrent of emotions hit her; relief, anguish, joy, denial, bliss. She was in complete disbelief.

 _Especially now._

She mourned for him. She grieved his death. She watched as he died. She cried over his body. She held his sister as she struggled to carry on.

 _He was dead. Bellamy was dead._

Clarke was wrong.

Before she fully comprehended what was going on, she was attempting to pull herself from the bed. Tears were blurring her vision and her head spun, but she used all of her strength to swing her legs off of the bed. She held back strangled cries – from pain, from seeing him alive, she wasn't sure.

He was beside her before she could get any further. His hand reached out to gently grasp her shoulder. _His touch –_ a touch she didn't think she'd ever feel again.

That was when she broke.

She rocked forward, falling into his arms. She melted into his body and sobbed so loud that her throat hurt. His arms circled around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, just like he used to back in the arena to comfort her.

 _This was home._

Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. She could barely breathe, she was sobbing so hard.

Bellamy was alive. He was here. He was in front of her; breathing, smiling, living. She could feel the blood rushing through his veins, and she could hear his heart racing, and she could feel the warmth radiating through his body.

 _He was alive._

"I thought you were dead," she managed to say between sobs. She pulled away from his chest, wanting to see him with her own eyes. Her shaking hands stayed tangled in the material of his shirt and his arms stayed wrapped around her shoulders.

She didn't think she would ever see these eyes again. _Those beautiful, soul-capturing eyes._ She didn't think she would ever feel his warmth again, or hear his voice, or be beside him.

He was dead, and then he wasn't. She was confused, but she didn't care in that moment. All she cared about was the fact that he was here and he was alive.

 _He was alive._

"I'm here," he told her, as if he read her mind. He spoke with such a soft voice that broke her into pieces. "I'm okay. I'm alive."

"You're alive," she repeated. She rocked forward and pressed her forehead to his chest. She could hear his heart beating. She could feel the blood moving through his veins. _He was alive._

"I don't-" She was going to say she didn't understand, but she stopped. In that moment, she didn't care. _She just cared about him._

Bellamy swooped down and pressed his lips firmly to hers. Clarke cried harder and pulled him closer. She could taste their tears on her lips.

Her hands grasped at his chest, her fingers pulling at the material. She was sobbing at how alive he felt under her. His hands gently cupped her cheeks, his thumbs sweeping some of the stray tears away.

Her head was fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, but she never wanted to part from him. She wanted to be pressed with him forever, never letting go. She never wanted to be away from him again, not any time soon. _Not after losing him._

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as she was. _This was unbelievable_. It felt like she was living in an alternate reality, or dreaming, or hallucinating.

 _And she never wanted to wake up._

Being in his arms, she felt like she was dying and being brought back to life over and over. She felt shattered into a million pieces, yet so put back together.

 _Bellamy was alive._

When they pulled back from each other, their chests were heaving and Clarke's head was spinning. She was thankful that she was sitting down; her knees felt weak and wobbly.

He didn't break contact with her as he moved to sit in bed beside her. Clarke pulled her legs back into the bed, trying to give him more room. Sometime during their reunion, Becca had left, and Clarke was thankful.

Bellamy moved further into bed, so his back was also resting against her pillow. She moved to his side, curling into him perfectly.

She couldn't tell if her tears were ones of joy or something else. She could feel pain in her heart, almost like it was residue left over from the heartbreak she experienced when she thought Bellamy was dead. It was almost like her heart hadn't completely caught up with the situation yet.

Her head was tucked against his neck and her hand rested over his heart. She was desperate to feel every inch of him – to make sure he truly was here and alive. She needed to feel his heart beating under her palm, she needed to feel each breath he took.

She tried to stop sobbing, but she couldn't. While she was in the arena, she never had time to mourn him. She had to push everything away in the name of survival. She became numb.

Seeing him pushed her over that edge. She was sobbing because _he died,_ but she was also crying because he was here. She loved him so much that it hurt.

"I'm so sorry, Clarke," he mumbled, his voice muffled against the top of her head. Hearing him say her name brought on another wave of emotion. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her tightly. She was glad for his strength in that moment. She thought she would fall apart without it. "I'm sorry."

"You're alive," she sobbed. She couldn't form coherent thoughts. All she could think about was the fact that he was okay. _He was okay._ "I don't want an apology for that. _You're alive, Bellamy._ Oh, gods. I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry for putting you through that," he told her. "I… I didn't know that was going to happen, or I would've told you. I never wanted to put you through that pain."

His lips pulled away from the crown of her head and he leaned forward. Her eyes flew open from the loss of contact, her heart in her throat. _Don't leave me._

Almost like he was thinking the same thing, he reached out and grasped her hand. She relished the feeling of having his fingers twine with hers again.

He moved forward to glance at the wraps around her torso. His eyes flicked to hers fro a brief moment, his face so filled with concern. She never thought she would see that tender expression again.

 _She loved him._

His forehead was creased and his lips pushed tightly together. He ran a single finger along the side of her torso, creasing her side. She shuttered in his arms and goose bumps erupted across her body.

"Are you okay?" he questioned, his eyes snapping to hers. She wasn't sure if she was asking this because of all the blood or because she was squirming in his arms. "I can get the medics in here to give you something for the pain or-"

She mustered her strength to move forward, and pressed her lips to his once again, ending his statement. "I don't want it," she told him. Her breath ghosted across his face. "I barely feel it right now. I just… You're alive."

"I'm alive." His hand cupped the side of her face, holding her with such tenderness that it made her heart ache. "You're alive, too." She nodded and ran her thumb along the back of his hand. He swallowed thickly and grasped her hand tighter. "I… I wasn't sure if you were going to make it."

She remembered the pond clearly now, and she wished she didn't. She didn't think she was going to make it either. She didn't understand how she was alive. _She didn't understand how he was alive._

"I thought I was dead," she said, her voice weak. "Maybe I am dead. Maybe that's why you're here. Maybe I'm hallucinating."

He surged forward and captured her lips again, stealing the breath from her lungs and making her feel like she was floating on air. When he pulled back, she was dizzy with joy.

"This isn't a hallucination," he said. She believed him. She knew she couldn't hallucinate a kiss that good. "You're not dead," he promised her. "We're alive. We made it."

"We made it," she echoed, her mind not comprehending those words.

Then, it hit her.

 _They made it out of the arena._

There was one thing that she was sure of, ever since she met Bellamy – they both wouldn't survive. She knew that either of them, or both of them, would die before the Games were over. She knew that their time spent during the weeks leading up to the Games were the only seconds they would ever be able to spend alone, just the two of them. And she knew that the time they spent together in the arena would be the only time they ever had together.

She knew that their relationship was temporary. She knew that they lived in a little bubble in the arena.

 _But she was wrong._

They both lived. They both survived the arena. It was impossible, but it happened.

"How?" She pulled away from him slightly. Her heart ached from the lack of contact, but she needed to see his face. She needed to hear the truth. "Becca said you made a deal with her?"

His facial expression was hard to read. His eyes dropped to the blanket wrapped around Clarke's hips, his eyes zeroed in on the pattern there.

"I did." His fingers tightened around hers, grounding both of them.

"I don't understand. What… Why would she agree?"

"Before I say anything, I want you to know that I was desperate." He locked eyes with her. She was struck by how determined he looked. "I needed to figure something out for all of us; for you and Octavia."

Her stomach felt like lead. "Okay."

"I wrote her a letter, the night before we went into the arena. I got a Peacekeeper to deliver it." He wet his lips. "And, do you remember the day I died?" It felt strange for him to talk about his death so naturally, like it wasn't something that ripped both of them apart and destroyed her. "We got a gift from a sponsor. Do you remember?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember what the note said?" She nodded. "It said _deal._ It was signed with an infinity symbol."

"I remember." She swallowed thickly. "I still don't understand how you're alive. What did your letter say?"

Bellamy looked guilty in that moment and Clarke's heart froze. She was terrified that he signed something away, like his life. She was terrified that he traded something more valuable than their freedom for this.

"Bell?" she prompted. His silence was killing her.

"I told her to let us go – all three of us – or I would tell Panem about District 13."

She blinked at him and was silent for a long moment. He glanced up at her, his expression filled with worry. He was clearly terrified of her reaction.

As for what _she_ was feeling in that moment, it was hard to put a finger on it.

She knew what she expected to feel – she knew what she would've felt if she was thrust into this situation only a month ago.

 _She would've felt betrayed. She would've been crushed that anyone person she trusted turned his back on her. She would've been destroyed that this secret that she carried around for months was shared so easily with someone that could've killed her._

But… she didn't feel like that. Not at all.

When she thought Wells told his father and played a part in getting her father killed, she still was her old self. She trusted Wells not to tell anyone because she _needed_ nobody to know. Her life was on the line, her father's life was on the line, her mother's life was on the line.

And, when she thought Wells did it, it resulted in the destruction of her life.

 _Now?_ Now, she had nothing to lose. Her father was dead. She would never forgive her mother for what she did, and never wanted to see her again. She lost Wells. She lost her friends. She lost herself.

Really, she had nothing else to lose. The only two people left that she cared about were Bellamy and Octavia. And he was the one to decide to tell Becca that he knew about District 13; by him saying that, he was only putting himself and Octavia at risk. At that point, she was already guaranteed to die for knowing. There was nothing more the Capitol could do to her.

Even weeks ago, when she told him her secret, she might've felt differently. She might've been hurt and betrayed by Bellamy's actions. But, now, they seemed so insignificant.

 _She lost people she loved._ She watched them suffer, she watched them bleed. She held them as they died, she watched the sky as she died, too.

Things like this – something that was once so important to her – seemed insignificant now.

 _She was safe. He was safe. Octavia was safe._ That was all that really mattered. And, it worked out. _Things worked out._

If it worked out, what was there to complain about? Sure, she could've been upset that Bellamy told the most powerful person that he knew the secret about District 13. Sure, she could've felt betrayed. She could've felt a lot of things.

But it worked out. Was there really a point to hanging onto the past when things turned out okay? Was there really a point to forming grudges when his plan worked?

No. Not to her, anyways. Not when she'd seen worse things in the world. Not when she'd already been to hell.

Bellamy must've taken her silence as something terrible. His face looked long and his eyes looked panicked. "I'm really sorry, Clarke. I… I…"

"It's okay." She was surprised by how even her voice sounded. She squeezed his hand. "It's okay."

"It's not," he said, pulling away from her. "I promised you I wouldn't tell anyone, and I did. I did this without your consent – I risked more than just myself by doing this. I-"

"Bellamy," she cut him off. "You saved us."

"That doesn't excuse anything, Clarke."

She retook his hand. "It does for me. It worked; that's all that matters. I-" She licked her lips. "I've lost someone before because of this secret. I blamed Wells for so long, and I'll never forgive myself for that." She met his eyes. "I've lost you once already. I don't want to lose you again. Not over something that doesn't matter anymore – not over something that _worked_ and saved _all three of our lives._ "

He shook his head. "Clarke-"

"If you need forgiveness, I'll give it to you." She remembered those words from Wells' letter, and she remembered how many burdens she released with them. It felt like a lifetime ago. "You're forgiven."

She brought his hand up and brushed her lips against the open palm of it, where a large scar ran. It was still fresh and still healing. This scar was from when he saved her at the bottom of the pond, the first time she got taken by the Capitol mutts. He risked everything for her then, and she knew he would do it over and over.

"I know your intentions, Bellamy. This scar proves that you care about me – that you are willing to anything so I can live." She locked eyes with him. "I know you, Bell. I'm not upset."

He looked broken. "You should be."

"Maybe I should be," she agreed. "But, I'm not. Right now, I'm _so fucking_ happy that you're alive. I'm alive. Octavia's alive. _We got out._ " She smiled and pressed another quick kiss to his hand. She could feel the tension leaving him bit my bit.

She met his eyes again. She doubted she'd ever get tired of looking at them. "I… I don't know what your deal is with the president, but I assume that we're going to live past today." Bellamy nodded slowly. Clarke thought about how, if they lived past this day, that meant they'd have to come to terms with what they had to do to survive. It was terrifying and exhilarating. "What was the deal with Becca?" she asked after a moment.

"I threatened that if all three of us didn't make it out of the arena alive, I would tell Panem about District 13." It was a smart plan, and it worked. All three of them got out alive. "She knew I wasn't bluffing." The corners of his lips twitched upwards. "It looks like she would rather bend a few rules for us than see a rebellion start up."

Clarke was confused again. "But I saw you die. I… I held you as you died." Her throat felt tight talking about it. _There was blood. So much blood._

"The Capitol did the same thing with you." His smile was gone now. Even though he wasn't there to hold her when she died (or, when she _thought_ she died), she knew he must've been watching the cameras back at the Capitol. That was almost a worse fate; having to watch, but not being able to do anything about it. "They fired both of our canons early and pulled us out while we were still alive. The medics here were able to work to save us."

Clarke shook her head. "Bellamy, that's not possible. You lost too much blood."

He shrugged. "I'm alive."

Clarke's mind was already racing, trying to figure out all the missing pieces to this puzzle. "Rebellion?" she echoed his words from earlier. "What do you mean?"

Bellamy looked even more exhausted in that moment. "Becca told me that she knows Panem will rebel if the truth comes out about District 13. You told me, too, Clarke. Your father knew the people wouldn't stand for the injustice." Clarke tried to ignore how her body felt cold. _A rebellion?_ Would people actually rebel about District 13? It wasn't hard to imagine after hearing how the Capitol screwed people over from across Panem. "She'd rather do this than lose her country."

"You said bend the rules earlier," she remembered. "So… We're all Victors? All three of us? How is that possible? You died days ago. I died when Ontari and Octavia were both still alive."

"No, we aren't Victors," he said. "We're dead."

She gave him a blank stare. "But you told me we're alive?"

"We're dead to the rest of Panem," he clarified. "They fired our canons early, faking our deaths. To the rest of the world, we're just two tributes that died in the Games. Octavia is the sole Victor." He looked relieved with this mention. "The only people who know the truth – that we escaped the arena and are actually alive – are the President and her inner circle."

She had to laugh at that. She knew she should've been taking the whole situation more seriously, but the idea that her death was faked during the Hunger Games was too ridiculous.

Just over one month ago, she was still in her cell. A few weeks ago, she was sure she was going to die. A few days ago, she was convinced her final days were approaching.

Now, she was alive. She was alive and-

 _And now what?_ She asked Bellamy.

His cheeks puffed out and his forehead creased. "Now what?" His concern melted away to something softer. "We live."

 _That sounded good to her._

She was brought back to all her realizations she came to when she thought he died. _A family. Being in love. Having children. Growing old._ The possibilities were endless and it made her more hopeful than she'd been in a long time.

He continued speaking. "The deal I made with the President included faking our own deaths, but this means that we have to stay dead – that we have to live out the rest of our lives in hiding."

Clarke's heart dropped at that. The thoughts of their future died. She could already imagine spending the rest of her life in a cell, trapped away from the outside world. The President wouldn't allow her to see the sky, for fear of someone seeing her and recognizing her. That wouldn't only cause a rebellion over District 13 – it would cause an uprising.

"I… I've arranged something," he continued speaking. He kept avoiding her gaze. "For both of us, if you want."

He was guarding his emotions and it made her nervous. "What is it?"

"I don't want to stay here," he said. She felt sick with his word. "I can't stay here. They don't want me here either. All I was ever trained to do was to fight in the Games, and I've done that. I've served my purpose for the Capitol."

"You're not staying?" Her heart was racing. She felt like she was on the verge of breaking. _Please don't leave me. I can't lose you again._

"I'm leaving Panem," he clarified. Clarke felt like she was falling, and she gripped him. "She's granted me safe passage to the boarder of Panem, and then I'll make my way North."

"What's North of Panem?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Or, at least, that's what Panem claims. We all know how corrupt they are, though, so I don't really know what lies beyond the boarders." He glanced at her. "I'm leaving Panem and I'm never coming back. _I can't come back._ That's part of the deal with Becca."

She was going to lose him all over again and _it hurt._

For a moment, his façade broke and she could see the hope he had. It was something so foreign to both of them; they'd never been allowed to have hope for the future before.

Bellamy's thumb swept across the back of her hand. "But you're also part of this deal." Her heart stopped with his words. "You can come with me. We can leave Panem together – escape this hell of a country, find a new place to start a life."

The breath was knocked from her lungs. "You want me to come north with you?" she asked, slightly breathless. "Beyond Panem?"

"If you want to," he said. "It's an invitation, if you want. We could finally escape everything here – all the corruption, and the death, and the pain."

 _Clarke wanted that._ She really wanted that.

"We could start a life – a new life, a better life."

 _Clarke wanted that, too._

"We could finally find peace, forgiveness, and be free."

 _Clarke needed that._

He locked eyes with her. His smile was soft and his eyes caring. "And, if you decide to come with me, I don't expect you to stay in love with me. I didn't make this deal because I expect you'll love me forever, Clarke. I did this because you're my family now. You'll always be family, no matter what happens between us." The more he spoke, the more affection flooded her heart. "If you come with me, you don't need to feel like you have to stay in love with me. We don't have to be together like that at all if you don't want to.

"All I ever wanted was to protect my family. _You're my family, Clarke._ And this… this gives us the choice on how we want to spend the rest of our lives. _We aren't dead._ We could leave Panem together, and that's it – we never see each other again. We could stay friends and live out our days wherever we end up." He brushed her cheek and she leaned into his touch. "Or we could stay together. And we could love each other like we do now, until our _true_ dying breaths."

She was at a loss for words, so he kept talking.

"I didn't make this choice for you, Clarke. _This is your choice._ Becca's also going to give you the option to live out the rest of your life here, in the Capitol." She felt frozen as he spoke. "She's going to offer you a place in the palace to live for the rest of your life. You'll work with trusted Capitol officials on projects of your choosing. If you want that, take it."

Clarke tried to imagine her life in the Capitol, she really did, but it was impossible. How could she work beside people that killed children? How could she work with liars and manipulators? How could she work with people that killed almost everyone she loved?

She never wanted that fate. Even as a child, she knew she could never stand beside people who ruled with terror.

Bellamy continued speaking. "She told me that if you choose to stay here, you can continue the education you had to stop when you went into lock-up. You could become a medic – an official medic." His fingers were gentle on her hand. "You can have a life here, too, Clarke.

"I'm not asking you to decide now. I'm not asking you to decide ever, really. All I mean is that… don't base your decision on us. _Do this for you, Clarke."_ He smirked. "You're so selfless. All the choices you make are ones for other people. You bare things so others don't have to. You don't have to anymore, especially not with this decision. This is your life. Do this for yourself."

Clarke didn't hesitate with her answer. She didn't even have to _think_ about it. There wasn't a doubt in her mind.

"I'm coming with you," she said. Her jaw was locked and her eyes blazed with determination. "I can't stay here either. I don't want to. Working for the Capitol is not something I want – I've never wanted it."

"You wanted to be a medic," he pointed out. "They can give you that."

Clarke glanced at the white gauze covering his neck and felt a chill settle over her. "I don't know want anymore. After everything we've seen… After everything I've been through… I don't know who I am anymore."

She felt this way for a long time. Ever since she was reaped, she struggled to figure out who she was. Being alone for so long made her feel lost in herself.

Over the last month, she began to understand herself again.

She loved without apology. She fought for her family. She was willing to give up everything to keep people she cared about safe. She had a strength inside of her that she didn't know before.

But, being in the arena also changed her. She never thought she'd be able to hurt someone, but she'd killed people. _People were dead because of her._

She didn't really know who she was. Not after isolation, not after being a tribute in the arena.

"Maybe one day, I'd want to be a medic again," she said after a moment. "Maybe once I've found myself again. But, right now, all I can think of is _them._ " She knew she didn't need to clarify for him. Even though they escaped the arena, so many of their friends didn't. _Wells. Charlotte. Monty. Lincoln. Raven. Murphy._ "All I can think of is losing them, and me not being able to stop it. I… I don't know if I want that feeling again, of being so helpless, even though _I_ should be able to save them." Bellamy knew her well enough to know she didn't want to hear how she tried. She didn't want to hear how she shouldn't blame herself.

"I don't know who I am," she admitted again. "But I do know this; I don't want to stay here. I don't want to live in the Capitol, or work for Becca, or standby while dozens of children are sent into the arena." She could see that same glimmer of hope in Bellamy's eyes from earlier and it warmed her soul. "To leave the Capitol – to leave Panem… that's a choice I never thought I'd have. It's freedom. It's a new life. A better life." He smiled at her repetition of his words.

"I'm not doing this for us, or for you," she said, addressing his earlier words. "I'm doing this because _I_ want this. I can't imagine my future here, but I _can_ out there. I dream of it, actually." She dreamed of freedom, and healing, and forgiveness. She dreamed of finding out who she really was again. "I want to go North with you, and I want to go wherever our future might take us." She had never felt so sure about something in her life. For the first time in a long time, she was filled with excitement for the future. "I'm with you, Bellamy."

His grin was as soft as his touches. "Together?"

Her heart fluttered. "Until the end."

* * *

 **There we have it! The official end of the time in the arena. And, in a way, this is the official end of this fic, as the next chapter is the epilogue. It's bitter-sweet to come to this moment.**

 **Also, please note, I am nerding out over the fact I accidentally closed this fic with the words "the end." I realized this as I was editing!**

 **I'll give a brief explanation over what the hell happened, since this chapter is pretty plot packed!**

 **-In chapter 19 and chapter 20, we see Bellamy writing a letter to someone unknown. This chapter reveals that he wrote this letter to Becca, offering her the deal of her saving all three of them (Octavia, Bellamy, Clarke) in exchange for their silence regarding District 13.**  
 **-In chapter 47, they receive a note saying "DEAL –∞" This was a note from Becca agreeing to Bellamy's terms.**  
 **-Bellamy and Clarke never actually died. They were gravely injured, but, before they could die, the Gamemakers fired their canons early, signaling their deaths. They were pulled from the arena and saved in the Capitol.**  
 **-Everyone across Panem thinks they are dead since the Capitol faked their deaths. They'll have to live their lives secretly because of this.**  
 **-This chapter is the equivalent of "You and me. Screw everyone else. Let's just go."**

 **And, I'm not sure if you caught it, but Octavia is the Victor! Which means she beat Ontari in the final fight. I never included that in this fic, just because I honestly never even thought to. But I know a few of you were looking forward to this showdown. I'd be willing to write a one-shot? If people are interested? (This is also me subtly saying that I never want to give up the universe this fic is based in, someone please encourage me to continue writing for it)**

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are extremely appreciated.**

 **Paw**


	52. Chapter 52: Like a Bird

**Here it is! The final chapter! I'll put a longer note at the bottom, but I just wanted to quickly say a HUGE thank you if you've read this far! The length of this fic got out of hand, so major kudos to you for making it to the end!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 52: Like a Bird**

* * *

It was the first time she was on a plane.

She was strapped to the wall of the hovercraft, the belts crisscrossing across her chest. She gripped them like her life depended on it; the skin over her knuckles was white and her fingernails dug into her palms from holding on so tightly.

Clarke had her eyes closed ever since she was stuffed on the ship. She didn't dare open them while the other cargo was loaded, and she didn't open them when the pilot tried to make conversation with her before takeoff. She didn't open her eyes when the drop door was slammed shut, shrouding her in darkness.

Only when she felt his hand on hers, she opened her eyes.

"Hey."

Clarke smiled at him and threaded her fingers with his. This was easy. It was home.

"Hey," she replied.

Bellamy sat beside her, his own belts strapped across his chest. She took a moment to admire him under the blue florescent lights that lit the cabin they sat in.

He looked good. Healthy. Happy.

He wore a simple black shirt and a grey jacket, just like she did. They also wore matching black pants with too many pockets, and matching cargo boots. Their clothing reminded her too much of what they wore into the arena, but she didn't bother to speak her mind. She doubted they really cared what she thought.

He looked good. His hair was still long enough to hang in his eyes, but it was still shorter than what it had been in the arena. It was as messy as ever, with several stay curls sticking up and laying across his forehead.

More importantly, he looked healthy. His cheeks were fuller than they were only two weeks ago, when she woke up in that hospital bed. She knew she looked healthier too.

The arena was hard on them. They were starved most of the time, and dehydrated for the other times. She barely slept and she knew he didn't either; whether it was because they were on watch, or because demons were keeping them awake at night, or because they were running to keep alive.

She knew they were both unhealthy from the arena and the tortured they endured. At least now, after two weeks of the Capitol pumping them full of fluids and other supplements, she was starting to feel better.

Even her injuries were almost healed. She wasn't too surprised by that fact; especially considering Octavia's fatal wound healed in the arena within a week from one dose of Capitol medicine. After weeks of living in the Capitol and being treated, they both looked good.

Bellamy's face wasn't covered with fresh wounds. The cuts along his body were faded to scars. Even the long slash on his palm from when he rescued her from the mutts in the pond was gone.

She knew that the claw marks along his torso were scars, too. The marks along his neck were still red, but they were healing.

 _Scars only remained._

It was true, in more than one way. She knew her body was littered with physical scars, just like Bellamy. Her hands were covered in marks from the mutts, most of which she was sure were going to fade, her cheek was still marked from the arrow that hit her when the Careers attacked the apartments, and her abdomen from where Dax stabbed her still was healing.

 _But scars were deeper than that._

The time she spent as a tribute left marks on her mind that were greater than anything physically apparent. She still hadn't had a full night's sleep; nightmares always woke her up. Even with Bellamy in the bed beside her, she woke up nightly, drenched in sweat and screaming.

 _He was always there._

Clarke still flinched at sudden noises and movements. More than once, her hand automatically traveled to her hip, where the hilt of her sword rested for over two weeks. She screamed and sobbed when she first tried to bathe after the games; the memories of being dragged to the bottom of the lake still apparent in her mind.

She was different. She knew it. She knew she wouldn't be the same; that what happened to her in the arena would stick with her forever.

Bellamy struggled too. The second night she spent with him, she was woken up in the night from him screaming. She woke him up that night, and held him as he sobbed.

 _She sobbed with him._

For Wells. For Charlotte. For Monty. For Lincoln. For Raven. For Murphy. For Luna.

For themselves, too.

 _They were just children._ They were never supposed to have fought and killed people at only 18-years-old. They shouldn't have had to mourn for as many friends as they did. They shouldn't have to be terrified of sounds that reminded them of canons, or be thrown into a spiral of darkness from a tub full of water.

She mourned for their friends, but she also mourned for themselves. She mourned for the innocence they were stripped of. She mourned for the lives full of mundane things they never got to have.

 _Two weeks._

It had been two weeks since she thought she died. It was two weeks when she felt her torso ripped apart by Dax's knife. It was two weeks ago since she glanced up at the mechanical sky, so sure that it was the last thing she would see.

It had been two weeks and two days since she held Bellamy's broken body. Two weeks ago, she had no doubts over the fact that he was dead. _She held him as he died._ She cried over his body. She mourned for him.

It had been three weeks since she last seen Raven, or Monty, or Murphy, or Lincoln. She thought of them often. It was hard not too. She loved them and she lost them.

She thought of them during the day, and she dreamed about them during the night.

She could still see Monty falling backwards on the stairs, the spear embedded in his chest. Or, she could still see the blood flowing down Lincoln's neck, his eyes locked on the sky.

Worst of all were Raven and Murphy. They frequented her nightmares more often than the others.

She could still recall Murphy's screams with such accuracy, it made her heart drop to her stomach. She still remembered how he begged not to die alone, how he cried over being forced into a place that wanted to kill him. She remembered how his chest rose and fell so slowly that she was sure every breath was his last. _Until it finally was._

She still remembered Raven's pleas for them to leave her. Her eyes were scared, but she was determined. Clarke didn't know exactly how she died, but she could imagine. Maybe her imagination was worse than reality in this case, but her mind enjoyed torturing herself with all the ways she could've died – all alone.

She also thought about Wells. And her mom. And Charlotte. And Atom. And Luna. And Roan and Cage.

She thought about all the blood and the screams. All the lives that she took, and all the lives she failed to save.

"It's okay. You're here. I'm with you." Bellamy called her back to reality easily, his hand squeezing hers. "We're safe."

"We're safe," she echoed. Her mouth was dry, but she nodded anyway. She forced her gaze to his. She focused on his eyes.

He smiled at her. The corners of his eyes were wrinkled from his smile, which caused her to smile too. She loved him. "We're not there anymore."

"I know," she mumbled. "We're okay."

This is what they did; they pulled each other away from the nightmares and away from the demons. She knew they needed to mourn and deal with the pain, but this wasn't the right time to do it.

While in the Capitol, they weren't safe. As long as they knew where they were, they never would be safe.

Clarke still knew about District 13. Bellamy knew it, too. On top of that, they were supposed to be dead. To the rest of Panem, they _were_ dead.

Nobody knew they were alive and they carried secrets that could end Panem.

 _Why should they be kept alive?_ She knew the Capitol, and they weren't stupid. She knew that they would never be safe. _Never._

So, even though they were out of the arena, they weren't safe yet. They could mourn when they escaped the clutches of the Capitol. They could mourn once they began to make a new life for themselves. The could heal once they escaped North.

"These backpacks are too familiar," Bellamy said after a moment, his toe prodding the bag at his feet. Clarke glanced down at the two bags the Capitol gave them.

He was right. They were nearly identical to the bags they had in the arena. It was a thought that chilled her to the bone and made her want to get sick. She never wanted to see or think of those bags again.

Really, it felt too close to being sent back into the arena. Between their nearly identical outfits and backpacks, Clarke could've swore that was where they were being sent.

When they landed, Clarke was even more sure of it.

The hovercraft touched down in the middle of a forest. While Clarke could tell the trees were a different species than the ones in the arena, they looked damn near identical. She tried not to look out the window as they landed.

"It's like we never left," she mumbled, her eyes locking on Bellamy's.

He gave her a brief smile. "This will be different," he promised her.

She believed him.

No killing. No running. No fighting. No surviving.

 _They would get to live here._ They would really get to live – not just survive. For both of them, that would be the first time in their lives they could say that.

There wouldn't be a higher power watching their every move. They wouldn't fear the summer because of the reapings.

For Clarke, she wouldn't have to worry about how long the Capitol would let her live. She wouldn't have to worry that she was next to be murdered for what she knew.

For Bellamy, he didn't have to worry about working several jobs to support Octavia. He wouldn't have to worry about how they were going to afford food, or afford to live.

And, for Clarke, this was the first time since her dad was murdered that she was free.

 _Truly free._

She wasn't locked in a cell anymore. She wasn't a tribute in the Capitol; doing interviews and training to kill others. She wasn't in the arena, fighting for her life.

 _She was free._

The door of the back of the aircraft was opened as soon as they landed. Clarke unstrapped herself and slung the backpack around back, clipping it in place once again.

Bellamy was right. It was too familiar.

Even more familiar was their weapons handed to them by the co-pilot. She doubted that they were the exact same ones from the arena, but it was close enough.

"This is a personal gift from the president," she assured both of them. Clarke felt sick taking the hilt of the sword. "She wanted to extend her best wishes to you both, and she hopes your tokens from your time as tributes will remind you of your strength and bring you pride."

 _Bullshit._

The sword she was given came with a holster, which she strapped to her hips. She was reminded of ghosts of her past. Bellamy had a matching sword to hers, and a matching leather holster.

"The boarder of Panem is approximately 50 miles north of this position," the co-pilot continued to say, completely oblivious to both Clarke and Bellamy's discomfort. "In your backpacks, you will find a single map and a compass. I assume you know how to use both?"

"I do," Bellamy answered. Clarke was glad for that; that was a skill they weren't taught before they were sent to the arena. "I don't think it'll be too easy to miss, anyways. I'm fairly sure the electric fences and the Peacekeepers will give it away."

The co-pilot didn't pay attention to his sarcasm. "There is a crossing point two miles east of the Dawn Tower – both locations are pre-marked on your map." They nodded. "And, a reminder to stay away from anyone. This is a classified mission; none of the Capitol officials present at the boarder are cleared to know your mission."

 _Mission._ Clarke hated that word. This wasn't a mission; it was an escape.

"Got it," she said stiffly. "Stay away from people. Secretly cross the boarder."

"And don't come back."

Bellamy's smile stretched thinly across his face. "You don't have to worry about that. We wouldn't ever dream about returning to this shit-hole." Clarke tried to fight her smile and took his hand. The co-pilot looked personally offended. "If that's all?"

They nodded sharply, her eyes narrowing at Bellamy's attitude. "You're free to go."

With that, Bellamy and Clarke walked off the ship. Just as they were about to take the steps down to the ground, she lifted her hand into the air and gave a half-wave. "See you all in hell." There was no doubt in her mind that those who helped murder children would meet her there.

They crouched behind a tree as the hovercraft took off again. Her hair whipped wildly around her face, stinging her cheeks from the force. Her eyes were locked on him as the hovercraft took off, trying to hold onto reality.

This felt too much like the arena. _The forest. The backpacks. The weapons._

She pried her thoughts away from that. This was the first time in her life that she wasn't being monitored. This was the first time in her life that she was free.

 _And this was the first time in her life that she had hope._

She had hope for the future – a better future.

For the first time, she could imagine herself _having_ a future. She had hope for herself. She wanted to heal her wounds, and she wanted to treat her scars. She wanted to focus on getting a handle on the trauma she experienced in the arena.

She wanted to discover who she was again. She knew she wasn't the same girl from before lock-up, and she didn't want to be the girl from the arena. She didn't really know who she was. _She wanted to discover that._ She wanted to decide who she wanted to be and _work_ towards that.

 _And she wanted to do it with him._ She could imagine waking up in his arms and falling asleep in them, ever day and night. She could imagine falling further in love with him and never letting him forget how much she cared about him. She could imagine growing old with Bellamy; of being a family with each other.

 _She wanted that._ She wanted him.

And, for the first time in her life, she knew that she could choose that.

When the winds died down, they were left kneeling beside each other. The forest was silent, other than for the birds chirping in the trees and the wind rustling the leaves.

Clarke locked eyes with him. "What now?"

He flashed that coy grin that she loved so much. "Whatever the hell we want."

That sounded pretty damn good to her.

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

 **Not entirely sure where to start! I'm known for being sentimental, but I'll keep this short!**

 **As I said earlier, if you've read this far, thank you so much! The word count is a lot higher than what I expected (or wanted haha), so thank you for reading and for sticking until the end!**

 **An even bigger thank you to anyone who favourited, followed, or reviews. I appreciate it all! Just know, your enthusiasm made my days!**

 **Major thank you to those who have been here since the beginning. I'm not too sure how many of you are out there, but please know I appreciate you sooo much!**

 **I had a blast! This fic has been nine months in the making, so it's bitter sweet for this to be the last chapter! Thank you for coming on this long and wild ride with me. It's been fun!**

 **If you enjoyed this fic, feel free to check out other Bellarke fics I've written by clicking on my profile! I think the number is currently at 31 other Bellarke fics.**

 **Regarding a sequel/follow up one-shots: I am really leaning towards doing something as a follow up to this fic! All follow ups will be posted as a separate fic, but I will post something on my Tumblr and Twitter when they're up!**

 **Thanks for reading! As always, reviews are appreciated. It's taken me months to complete this fic, so it would mean a lot if you could let me know if you read to the end :) As a good-bye gift to me! haha**

 **Thank you again.**

 **Paw**


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